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REMARKS 



ON 



THE FOUR GOSPELS 



BY 



W. H. FURNESS 



" A great deal is said about the beauty of the Scriptures, without reference 
to any just principles of taste." 




PHILADELPHIA: 
CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD 



1836. 






Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1836, 
by W. H. Furness, in the Clerk's office of the District Court 
for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 



74- 



>15 



PREFACE. 



I have endeavoured in this examination of the Christian 
Scriptures to realise in a degree the state of mind, with 
which they would be read by one who should open them 
for the first time. It is perhaps impossible completely to 
project the mind beyond the atmosphere, which it has 
breathed from the cradle ; or it can only be done at the 
imminent hazard of transcending the true point of view. 
To weigh with equal independence and candour the 
claims of the religion of one's age and country requires 
an almost incredible effort, especially from those whose 
office it is to uphold, in one form or another, the establish- 
ed faith. I can only say that I am not ignorant of the 
biases to which an inquirer, born and brought up in a 
Christian community, is exposed. I have tried to guard 
against them ; to look into the Christian Records, as if 
they had just been placed before me, at least with no dis- 
position in their favour but that produced by the undis- 
puted excellence of their morality; and to ascertain the 
precise truth as nearly as possible, unswayed by that 
veneration for authority which leads us to take too much 
for granted on the one hand, or by that love of novelty, 
so fruitful of doubt and denial on the other. 

There are numbers who give no credit to the accounts of 
the Life of Jesus Christ. They barely admit his existence. 
There are many more whose faith rests only on tradition. 
I do not doubt, therefore, that works, like the present, 



Vlll PREFACE. 

whose aim it is to disclose grounds for personal convic- 
tion, are needed and may be useful. Still a direct know- 
ledge of the wants of others has not been the primary 
cause of this publication. The views contained in this 
volume have interested my own mind deeply. For this 
reason I have wished to publish them. I believe and 
therefore do I speak. Were I utterly unacquainted with 
the wants of others, I should deem it a safe presumption 
that the experience of one individual, no matter how 
humble, in regard to a subject of universal interest, is the 
experience, if not of all, yet of many. Every man is the 
best representative to himself of other men. And he may 
justly be charged with arrogance, who fancies himself so 
peculiarly constituted, so different from all others, that 
what has satisfied his mind will not have a like influence 
in numerous other cases. 

It is extremely difficult to suggest any new mode of 
regarding admitted truths, without incurring the suspicion 
of unfriendliness to the truths themselves ; so generally is 
opinion identified with truth. I may be charged with a 
design to explain away the Christian Miracles, when, in 
reality, I am at a loss to express my sense of the value 
of the extraordinary facts of the life of Jesus. In every 
point of view, moral, religious, and philosophical — whether 
as lessons to every man's soul, or as attestations to the 
Divine authority of him, by whom they were wrought, 
they possess a value of which w T e do not yet dream. 
They have been compared to the foundations of a grand 
edifice, into which the multitude enter and dwell, rejoicing 
in its beauty, but " caring not about its foundation any 
further than to know that it has one." This is a just 
comparison so far as it expresses the fundamental cha- 
racter of the miracles. But it betrays the defect of the 



PREFACE. IX 

common representation of these remarkable facts. Why- 
should the occupants of the building care to know any- 
more of that part of it which is hidden, buried in the earth, 
than its bare existence 1 At the point of view, at which I 
have considered the miracles, and which, it seems to me, 
every just principle of thought indicates, while they are 
no less essential than the above illustration represents, 
they become the key-stones of the great arches and domes 
of the edifice, arresting every eye, visibly imparting 
strength and perfection to the whole, blazing with celes- 
tial characters, and hewn as out of that sapphire which, 
in the vision of the prophet, was the throne of God. 

I am aware that the exposition I have attempted of the 
true mode of regarding the Christian miracles (Chapters 
VIIL, IX.) is very imperfect. Still it is best it should be 
published. If erroneous, its fallacy may be shown. If 
true, it will attract the attention and engage the services 
of abler minds. In the meanwhile I avow myself a sin- 
cere believer in the reality of these wonderful facts. I 
believe that the blind received sight, the lame walked, 
the dead rose, and the winds and waves were hushed at 
the word of Jesus of Nazareth. I do not deny that these 
events attest his divine authority. But I know not how 
they can have any force as evidences of the divinity of 
his mission, until they are felt to have been wrought for 
a diviner end than merely to convince the understanding, 
even for a certain intrinsic worth which must be discern- 
ed, whether it be definable or not. God's means are 
always ends, and hence their efficiency as means. A 
good act, performed for example's sake, is not a good act, 
and consequently cannot have the influence of goodness. 
It must be done for its own sake, and then it will be pow- 
erful as an example. So I conceive it to be with the 



miracles of Jesus. They were wrought principally for 
their own sakes. They are demonstrations of the power 
of a single and pure purpose ; and therefore are they pow- 
erful to convince. Thus do they testify that he was 
moved by the inspiration of God. 

" Since I was of understanding" — to use the words of 
Sir Thomas Browne, — " to know we knew nothing," I 
have felt that there could hardly be a greater objection to 
a theory or mode of thought, than the pretension to ex- 
plain everything. I am impressed with nothing more 
deeply, than with the vanity of supposing that the mind 
of man can so penetrate and compass any work of God 
as to be able to relieve it of all difficulty. I do not be- 
lieve there are any questions, connected with the great 
subject of these pages, which are unanswerable; but 
there are many, I freely confess, that I cannot answer. 
There are many passages in the Gospels which I have 
not attempted to explain. I have not sought to remove 
difficulties, but to unveil the beaming features of Truth ; 
to point out some of those characteristics of these narra- 
tives which produce an impression of reality that no dif- 
ficulties are strong enough to obliterate. 

I have not wished to allude to the opinions of others, 
however erroneous, except as it became necessary to the 
unfolding of what seems to me to be intrinsically true. I 
fear, however, I may have occasionally expressed myself, 
when there was no absolute need of it, in a manner that 
may wound the feelings of the serious and honest of other 
denominations. I regret every such expression and wish 
that it were erased. 



CONTEXTS 



Chat. I. Introduction , . . . . 13 

II. The Historical Character of the Four Gospels 24 

III. The Marks of Honesty apparent in the Gospels 34 

IV. The same Subject continued . . .51 
V. The same Subject continued 69 

VI. The Consistency of the Characters alluded to in 
the Gospels ..... 

VII. The same Subject continued. — The Character of 

Christ ...... 112 

VIII. Miracles . . . . . .145 

IX. The Miracles of Christ, illustrations of his 

Character . . . . .187 

X. Jesus as a prophet . . . . 210 

XI. The Magnanimity of Jesus .... 235 

XII. The Death and Resurrection of Jesus . 268 

XIII. Conclusion . . . . .314 

Notes ..... 337 



ERRATA. 

Page 136, 3d line from the bottom, for cogitat read cogitavit. 
Page 203, 15th line from the top, for himself read itself. 



CHAPTER I. 



INTRODUCTION. 



41 The first condition of success is, that in striving honestly our- 
selves, we honestly acknowledge the striving of our neighbour ; that 
with a Will unwearied in seeking Truth, we have a Sense open for 
it, wheresoever and howsoever it may arise." — Edinburgh Review. 

It is an imperfect statement of a fundamental principle 
to say that truth carries with it its own evidence. Evi- 
dence relates to the understanding. Whereas, under 
certain plain and natural conditions, moral and religious 
truths possess the power not only of convincing the 
understanding, but of impressing deeply the noblest affec- 
tions of the human bosom. 

When the mind is swayed by any inveterate bias, by a 
pride of opinion or of party, by an excessive veneration 
for what is already established, or a passion for novelty, 
by a conceit of intellect or the indulgence of vicious 
habits, then the most important principles of religion 
and morality may fail entirely not only of awakening any 
sensibility in the heart, but of gaining the faintest assent 
of the understanding. It is not for minds in this unhappy 
state that these pages are designed. If they are likely to 

2 



14 



PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. 



fall only into the hands of those in whom exists no candid 
and generous love of truth, to which I may speak, I may 
well lay down my pen in despair. I cannot forget that the 
greatest of teachers, speaking as never man spake, and 
performing works of unprecedented power, entertained 
no hope of acting directly upon those whose affections 
were in captivity to earthborn prejudices and selfish 
passions. But to the true-hearted— to whatever of truth 
and candour dwelt in the hearts of those around him, he 
appealed with the greatest confidence. " He who doeth 
the will of my Father, shall know of my teaching, whether 
it be of God, or whether I speak of myself." " Every one 
that is of the truth heareth my voice." Wherever any 
conformity to the Divine Will had been attained, there he 
looked for a commanding influence. 

If our various faculties and affections have been culti- 
vated according to their opportunities and the intent of 
their nature — if the will of the Creator, signified in their 
very constitution and by his providence, has been com- 
plied with, in the degree to which this is the case, they are 
in a sound and healthy state; and there is a strong affinity 
between them and all truth. This is the condition, with 
reference to which I observe, that it is not doing justice to 
truth to say, that if truly presented it wi\] prove itself. It 
will do infinitely more. It will send forth a light which 
will not only paralyse, if it do not destroy, all speculative 
difficulties, but enter and fill all the chambers of the soul. 
If it be truth relating to the Divine Nature, it will kindle 
our sentiments of awe, veneration and love. If it con- 



PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. 15 

cern human things, human endeavours, sufferings and 
obligations, it will call out our active human sympathies. 
Its influence will not stop, content with gaining the assent 
of the reason ; it goes farther, — it reaches and sets in motion 
all the primary and most powerful springs of our being. 

Such I conceive to be the power of truth, when pre- 
sented in a true form. The modes of presenting truth 
are various. There are the essay, the argument, the 
poem, the history or narration, and so on. And there is 
a truth that pertains to these various forms, as well as to 
the subjects they are employed to exhibit. That is, there 
is a true way of expressing truth, a way distinguished by 
certain marks or signs which belong only to truth, and 
which, when perceived, carry with them all that power, 
the power of deciding the understanding, but more espe- 
cially of touching the heart, which, as I have just said, is 
the essential and active property of truth. Every story, 
in its peculiar characteristics, affords us materials for 
determining its truth, and in great abundance when it is 
eminently historical, containing a variety of details ; when 
numerous circumstances, places, and persons, are specified 
or alluded to. A true story of this description has a cer- 
tain air — its different parts have a keeping or consistency 
one with another, which every intelligent and ingenuous 
mind feels deeply, even when it is wholly unable to ana- 
lyse and define it. 

I do not undertake to give a complete account of the 
traits by which the truth of any statement or history 
may be ascertained. It would be no easy task, not be- 



16 OBJECT OF THE WORK. 

cause they are either slight, incidental, or ambiguous, 
but because they pertain to the very essence of truth, and 
to the profoundest philosophy of thought and expression. 
Very often the indications of truth are so delicate, that, 
although they may be instantly and fully felt, they cannot 
readily be described, nor, without the finest powers of 
discrimination, referred to general principles. And, be- 
sides, it is not necessary to my purpose. It will suffice 
for the present, if I am able to point out as many of these 
internal signatures of truth in the case of the historical 
books of the New Testament, as will cause their substan- 
tial truth to be felt in something of its intrinsic vividness. 
This, now, is my object in the following pages. 
Taking up the first four books of the New Testament as 
human compositions, forgetting as far as possible all that 
has been said of their authority and inspiration, cherish- 
ing only that respect for them which the most imperfect 
acquaintance with their contents never fails to inspire, 
and that candour which it becomes us always to cherish, 
I propose to point out those characteristics of these 
writings which have produced in my mind a new and 
lively conviction of their truth, — a new sense of their 
wonderful beauty and power. I do not presume to 
furnish anything like a complete analysis of their style 
and contents. I am deeply impressed with the idea that 
all which I can offer is gathered but from the borders of 
an immense field in which untold treasures of moral 
truth and evidence lie buried. I wish only to state what 
I have seen with my own eyes, and felt with my own 



CONCESSIONS. 17 

heart; — to give some of the results, such as they are, of 
my own humble reading and study. My fondest hope, 
so far as others are concerned, will be fulfilled, if these 
pages serve to create in minds better qualified to pursue 
the work, a belief in the exceeding riches of a region, 
as yet so imperfectly explored. 

There are many and powerful arguments for the truth 
of the great facts recorded in the New Testament, ex- 
trinsic of the records themselves. They have been ably 
stated in numberless forms. I do not question their 
weight. But to be duly appreciated they require a degree 
of intellectual cultivation and an amount of learning en- 
tirely out of the reach of the great body of readers. The 
considerations which I would now suggest, besides being, 
as I apprehend, of a most affecting nature, are within 
the reach of all ; requiring principally, in order to their 
just appreciation, an honest and ingenuous temper, a 
healthy moral taste, and only so much time as the avoca- 
tions of the busiest allow. 

The train of thought upon which I now propose to en- 
ter, admits of certain concessions which I wish to make 
distinctly in the outset. 

1 . I am willing to concede, that upon a first and cur- 
sory examination of these four histories, things of a strange 
and improbable nature present themselves. Extraordi- 
nary facts are stated, which we feel demand extraordinary 
proof; and the suspicion is not unnatural, that delusion may 
have had some share in the production of these writings. 
Admitting that these impressions may be made by some 
2* 



18 CONCESSIONS. 

parts of the New Testament history, I nevertheless hope 
to point out features of truth, numerous and significant 
enough to create a lively sense of reality; and to induce 
an impartial mind to draw no conclusions from any por- 
tions of these books, however obscure and difficult, which 
do not go to establish powerfully their substantial credit. 
2. In the exposition of that beautiful argument for the 
truth of the Scripture History of St. Paul, stated with so 
much felicity by Dr. Paley in his Horae Paulinae, he has 
this language : " The reader is at liberty to suppose these 
writings (the Epistles of Paul and the Book of Acts,) to 
have been lately discovered in the library of the Escurial, 
and to come to our hands, destitute of any extrinsic or 
collateral evidence whatever; and the argument I am 
about to offer is calculated to show that a comparison of 
the different writings would, even under these circum- 
stances, afford good reason to believe the persons and 
transactions to have been real, the letters authentic, and 
the narration in the main to be true." I am ready to 
make a similar concession — to suppose that the four Gos- 
pels, as they are called, have just been discovered under 
some ancient ruins — that the names even by which they 
are designated, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John have 
been obliterated — that they are anonymous. Even if the 
reader incline to the idea that the four gospels are only 
different versions of one story — one original gospel, it will 
not materially affect the present argument. Still I trust 
it will appear that these books are the productions of truth 
and honesty — that the accounts they contain were drawn 



ANTIQUITY OF THE GOSPELS ASSUMED. 19 

from persons present on the spot — in fine, that they are 
not legends, fictions, romances, but true histories of real 
persons and real events. 

There is one thing, however, respecting these writings. 
which, it is obvious, I intend to assume, their antiquity ; 
not, however, because even this point may not be very 
satisfactorily made out from their internal structure. If 
they were now suddenly placed before us for the first 
time, from what quarter we knew not, there would be in- 
contestable evidence that they were not the productions 
of any recent period. There is no work so general and 
abstract that it is not in innumerable particulars indelibly 
impressed by the age in which it appears. A biographi- 
cal or historical work, abounding in notices of places, per- 
sons, manners, customs, and sentiments, in certain modes 
of thought and expression, furnishes on its very face, the 
means of fixing its date with some approach to correct- 
ness. This is the case with the writings which we are 
now to consider. They are antique in their whole cos- 
tume. They could not have been written in this age, nor 
at any time very far removed from that at which they are 
generally believed to have been composed, because they 
bear none of the impressions of any such time. I do not 
insist that their date can be fixed with precision merely 
from internal marks, but that they show beyond all doubt 
that they were written very near the time to which they 
are usually referred. It is not the direct notices of time, 
found here and there in these writings, which constitute 
indubitable signs of antiquity, because such notices might 



20 THE ANTIQUITY OF THE GOSPELS. 

easily have been forged and interwoven with these nar- 
rations, even had they been produced at a much later 
period. It is their numerous and familiar references to 
the customs and opinions of a certain age, their peculiar 
forms of expression and thought, connected with the ab- 
sence of all allusions to modes of thinking and speaking 
prevalent in all subsequent ages, that help us so effectually 
to determine the period to which they should be assigned. 
But it is unnecessary to undertake an enumeration of 
the evidences of antiquity abounding on every page of 
the New Testament, because there are hardly any so 
ignorant or so captious as to question the age of these 
writings. And if there are, there is one consideration at 
hand which seems to me must be decisive. You need 
not go back to the past to inquire about the existence of 
these books ; consider a fact that presents itself before 
your eyes — the wide, and I may say superstitious vene- 
ration with which these books are now regarded. They 
lie at the bottom of the faith of many nations, and a com- 
plicated structure of forms and institutions rests upon 
their professed authority. How does their influence per- 
vade the whole fabric of society — our public establish- 
ments, our systems of education, our modes of thought 
and language ! The feelings of awe and sacredness which 
have gathered round these books cannot have been the 
growth of any brief period. The religious prejudices and 
associations of the human mind are not the offspring of a 
day, but the slow formation of centuries. The extensive 
circulation of the New Testament — the present fact that 



THE ANTIQUITY OF THE GOSPELS. 21 

it is every where a familiar, household book, proves, I say, 
not its truth, but its age. The gospels must be hundreds 
of years old at all events. 

But decisive as is the inference in favour of their anti- 
quity from the position which they now occupy, it is 
not all. Their existence can be traced back some four- 
teen hundred years, to go no further, by a chain of his- 
torical evidence as strong and uninterrupted as the most 
sceptical can demand. And the earliest notices we have 
of them are not as of books then first published, just ap- 
pearing, but of works even then extensively received and 
copiously quoted. A great portion of the literature that 
existed ages ago, bears incidental evidence not only to 
the existence, but to the influence of these writings. So 
abundant are the quotations from them in the works of 
early Christian writers, that it has been said that if they 
had been lost in their present forms, they might have 
been restored from the writings of the Fathers. At the 
commencement of the fourth century, Christianity was 
the religion of the Roman Emperor. The gospels must 
have had an existence antecedent to this event, the con- 
version of Constantine. Now, if we know that so long 
ago these books were extensively read, quoted, and vene- 
rated, the conclusion is inevitable that they were in ex- 
istence years and years before. To have won their way 
into so wide a circulation — to have become possessed of 
so large a space and so weighty an authority, when no 
art of printing was known, and the means of intercourse 
and communication were so imperfect, must have been a 



22 METHOD OF THE WORK. 

work of time. So that the Christian records must have 
been old, even when we find the first notices of them in 
early writings. 

Assuming the antiquity of these writings, without further 
remark, I proceed to the proposed examination of their style 
and contents, upon the principle, that from every written 
composition, we may infer, more or less confidently, the 
character and credibility of its author. Every narrative, 
by the manner in which it is put together, enables us to 
form some conception of the intelligence, the amount of 
information, the spirit and the particular motives and pre- 
possessions of the individual from whom it has proceeded. 
So that every history is unconsciously and unavoidably a 
history of its author. It is a virtual account of his mind 
and character, a representation of his moral and intellec- 
tual lineaments, of his qualifications for the work he has 
produced, of his claims to be believed, — in fine, of the 
source whence the history has emanated; whether it be 
the offspring of Truth, of Imposture, or of Delusion. It 
is true the motives which a- writer professes, the senti- 
ments he expresses, may not be his real motives and 
sentiments. Still Affectation is one species of Falsehood, 
and, as such, though it may not be as readily, yet is it as 
truly distinguishable from Truth as any other form of 
error. To different writings these remarks apply with 
different degrees of force. A work may be so brief, so 
general and so obscure, as to afford us but a very dim 
idea of the spirit of the writer. I hope, however, to make 
it appear that the books now to be examined are, to a re- 



METHOD OF THE WORK. 23 

markable extent, precisely of the kind which furnish the 
most copious and satisfactory manifestations of the spirit 
and aim of their authors. Indeed, I venture to assert, 
that if we had authentic and minute biographies of the 
writers of the four Gospels, we should still have the most 
decisive illustrations of their characters, in the style and 
structure of the Gospels themselves. We should still 
see in these their works, the strongest evidence that 
they were eye and ear-witnesses of the things they record 
— men of good sense and sound hearts, possessing excel- 
lent powers and opportunities of observation, and inspired, 
to an uncommon degree, by that single-mindedness upon 
which we always delight to repose our most cordial con- 
fidence. 



24 



CHAPTER II. 

THE HISTORICAL CHARACTER OF THE FOUR GOSPELS. 

" The Scripture is no one summary of doctrines regularly digested, 
in which a man could not mistake his way ; it is a most venerable, 
but most multifarious collection of the records of the divine economy, 
a collection of an infinite variety of Cosmogony, Theology, History, 
Prophecy, Psalmody, Morality, Apologue, Allegory, Legislation, 
Ethics, carried through different books, by different authors, at dif- 
ferent ages, for different ends and purposes. 

" It is necessary to sort out what is intended for example, what 
only as narrative. * * * * " 

Burke — Speech on the Acts of Uniformity. 

In looking over the four Gospels, the first and most ob- 
vious feature that strikes us is their Historical character. 

They have been so long and so widely treated, as if 
they were creeds or formulas of faith, made up of formal 
propositions, each by itself affirming an independent and 
unqualified article of belief, that we are apt to overlook 
altogether this remarkable trait, their historical nature. 
They are not argumentative, nor didactic. They belong 
to the department of History, Biography, Memoirs. They 
may be complete or imperfect, true or the grossest fabri- 



THE GOSPELS, HISTORICAL. 25 

cations, still they are not philosophical treatises, elaborate 
statements of principles more or less important. They 
are evidently histories, narratives. They are crowded 
with incidents. They abound in notices, direct and indi- 
rect, of persons, places, and events. They scarcely con- 
tain what with any propriety can be called an abstract 
discourse. The circumstances mentioned, too, are for 
the most part remarkable for their publicity, and even 
those portions that approach nearest to the character of 
sermons are not general in their style of thought, but are 
expressed in a popular phraseology, and are filled with 
local and personal allusions. The scene is not laid in a 
dark, retired corner, but the course of events is repre- 
sented as going on over a vast extent of country, in the 
presence of particular individuals and large multitudes. 
Cities and villages with their respective localities are in- 
cidentally designated, wherein the facts narrated took 
place. To speak still more dramatically, the curtain 
rises, and the first glance shows us Jerusalem and its 
magnificent temple, Judea, the River Jordan, the Sea of 
Galilee, and the region round about ; and we stand in 
the open air, and under the noonday sun, to observe the 
progress of the events related. Multitudes are collected 
before us. Different individuals and whole classes of 
men pass over the stage, Pharisees and Sadducees, 
teachers of the Jewish Law, Roman soldiers, tax- 
gatherers, centurions, and magistrates, and all has the 
air of the greatest publicity. 

.\ow what is the natural inference from this obvious 
3 



26 THE GOSPELS, HISTORICAL. 

feature of these writings'! If a book of a similar charac- 
ter were published at the present day, a book not occu- 
pied with speculative discussions, not stating principles or 
opinions, but relating facts, purporting to have occurred 
in some well known country and within the last fifty or 
sixty years, filled with circumstantial details, abounding 
in allusions, local, personal, civil, introducing the names 
of public functionaries and offices — of parties, religious and 
political, how would such a publication be regarded 1 It 
would either be understood at once and by all as a mere 
work of imagination, so considered by the author himself, 
and published as a fiction, not to be credited as true, but 
to exercise and illustrate his own genius, and to procure 
for him the fame of genius ; or, if we supposed that he in- 
tended and expected to be believed, then it must be be- 
cause of its substantial truth, or else he must be among 
the most absurd of men. Every man who has intelligence 
enough to fabricate a story with a view to impose upon 
the world, takes especial care how he meddles with facts, 
circumstances, names ; " All things animate and inanimate 
are combined against falsehood." In the great system of 
Nature and Providence, nothing exists alone and insu- 
lated. Every circumstance and every object, however 
trifling apparently, are inextricably related in innumerable 
ways to innumerable other circumstances and objects, so 
that every fact virtually appeals to an incalculable mass of 
testimony. He who lays the scene of his story in a cer- 
tain country, in the presence of multitudes, in the midst 
of public affairs and institutions, summons he knows not 



THE GOSPELS, HISTORICAL. 27 

how many witnesses to testify to the truth of what he af- 
firms. Every circumstance that he introduces swells the 
cloud of witnesses beyond all enumeration. If he relates 
what has no foundation in reality, he exposes himself to 
detection at unnumbered points, and it is impossible that 
he should not be instantaneously overwhelmed with the 
shame and ridicule which he so urgently invites. He is 
only spreading snares for his own feet, weaving a web in 
which he is sure to be caught and entangled. 

It is fairly to be presumed therefore that the authors of 
the books under consideration never intended to state 
what was false. If they had designed to deceive — to re- 
late what they knew was not true, they never would have 
been so prodigal of circumstances, so profuse in allusions 
to public persons, places, and events. Some caution — 
some apprehension of their liability to exposure would 
have shown itself in the manner in which they touch 
upon details. But we find nothing of this kind. These 
writings are pervadingly narrative — full of incidents. 
There is no trace of caution or constraint. Whether true 
or false then, we cannot but conclude that they were writ- 
ten in good faith — that their author or authors believed 
them to be true. And if so, the presumption is equally 
strong that they are true in the main. Because although 
the most honest of men are liable to be deluded, yet it is 
wholly without example and utterly incredible that such 
a multitude of particulars as are recorded in these books, 
should be mere delusions. They may be more or less 
misapprehended, but they must be substantially founded 



28 THE GOSPELS, HISTORICAL. 

in fact. Such seems to be the obvious and natural infe- 
rence from the simple abundance of facts in these books, 
from their character so eminently circumstantial. 

Or, if the force of these remarks be not felt, then one 
thing is very clear, that writers so unwise, so imprudent 
— so reckless as to go blindly on, accumulating facts, add- 
ing incident to incident, and these too of the most public 
character, utterly insensible to the certainty of detection, 
at every step made doubly sure, must evince the same 
want of judgment and common sense in the structure of 
these narratives ; and we may entertain the most confi- 
dent expectation that a closer scrutiny will make the false- 
hood of their stories perfectly plain. If they were so 
foolish as thus shamelessly to fabricate such an abun- 
dance of facts, facts too of a public character, we may be 
sure of discovering the groundlessness of their preten- 
sions. For although events appear to take place very 
much at random, and to be strung together with very 
little order and connexion, and individuals to speak and 
act from accidental and inconsistent impulses, yet every 
real series of circumstances of any length or number, 
especially if they involve the sayings and conduct of any 
number of individuals, or even of only one individual, have 
a certain consistency belonging only to Nature and Truth. 
In fact, in the wildest appearances of the natural world, — 
in the clouds when they are piled in the most irregular 
masses in the atmosphere, there is ever a pervading and 
essential harmony of light, and shade, and form, which the 
common observer feels, though unconsciously, and with- 



THE GOSPELS, HISTORICAL. 29 

out the perception of which the efforts of the Artist are 
utterly fruitless. In the scenes and phenomena of the 
moral and intelligent world, a like coherence exists as a 
vital and all connecting element. It may not be easy, as 
I have already intimated, to show in what this keeping 
consists. But it is recognised and felt instantly by every 
intelligent and ingenuous mind. We perceive the absence 
of it continually in the ablest and most ingenious of the 
myriads of fictitious histories — of novels and romances, 
with which the press teems. In certain passages they 
always betray, even to unpractised eyes, the hand of hu- 
man art, and the want of that air of truth, which though 
indefinable, is nevertheless real and most affecting. Na- 
ture and truth have their own marks which they impress 
upon every work of theirs, marks which to some extent 
human art may counterfeit, but which after all transcend 
the reach of fiction as much as the great Intelligence that 
upholds all objects and controls all events exceeds the 
mind of man. So, then, if the four gospels are mere fic- 
tions, and the series of events related have no foundation 
in reality, but only in imagination, then, to the extent to 
which this is the case, they must be deficient in that na- 
turalness which is the accompaniment of truth only. It 
is impossible that mere fabrications should be undistin- 
guishable from facts founded in truth and nature. Espe- 
cially must the difference be apparent in the case of the 
Christian records if they are fictitious, because they 
abound in facts, and are evidently put together without 
any apprehension on the part of their authors of their 
3* 



30 THE GOSPELS, HISTORICAL. 

liability to detection. They who are so simple as to lay the 
scene of their fictions amidst public transactions, places, 
and persons, with so little perception of the risk of expo- 
sure, must betray the same want of good sense in the 
composition of their stories, and we may be perfectly cer- 
tain that it will require no extraordinary degree of pene- 
tration to lay bare the delusion. 

It is departing somewhat from the course which I have 
prescribed to myself, still I may be permitted to remark 
in this connexion, that the simple fact that these writings 
have obtained extensive credit, creates a very strong pre- 
sumption of their substantial truth. That a thing is not 
proved because it has been long and generally believed, 
is a consideration of great importance which should never 
be lost sight of. Still the force with which it applies in 
any given instance, is determined by the nature of the 
subject proposed to us for our assent. If it be a mere 
matter of speculation — of opinion — a point upon which 
there is a peculiar liability to error, prejudice and delu- 
sion, authority can have but little weight. Yet, even in 
this case we can hardly help believing that whatever a 
large mass of men have for ages credited, must have in 
it some portion — some basis of truth. The extensive 
and enduring prevalence of a certain conviction or faith, 
is a fact, an effect, for which some cause must exist, and 
there is no cause so universal as truth. Thus it is com- 
monly said and admitted that the universality of a belief 
in a God and in a life to come, is one argument for these 
two great doctrines, a presumption, at least, of their truth. 



THE GOSPELS, HISTORICAL. 31 

But this presumption is a great deal stronger when the 
proposition demanding credit states a fact, or a number 
of facts, and these, too, not insulated, not of a private but 
of a public nature ; because facts of this description must 
naturally and necessarily be associated and interwoven 
with myriads of other facts of universal notoriety. And the 
evidences of their truth or falsehood must be spread out 
in the greatest abundance in the eye of the world. If 
there were now just published a narration of facts of a 
character public and remarkable, like those recorded in 
the New Testament, and purporting to have taken place 
quite recently, within a few years, in this, or in some 
neighbouring community, if there were no truth in them, 
they could not gain credit for a single moment, for their 
falsehood would manifest itself at once to every man, so 
that he who runs might read, in the entire absence of all 
that near and collateral evidence, which every real event 
carries with it in the multiplicity of its public bearings and 
connexions, and which does not require to be searched 
after, as it is impossible to be overlooked. The times, 
places, customs, institutions, feelings and opinions alluded 
to, more or less distinctly, presenting none of the traces 
or impressions which the facts reported must have left, 
would by their silence immediately reveal the fraud. On 
the other hand, if it were pretended that the incidents 
now first published, had occurred a great while ago, the 
simple fact, that in the present state of things no signs 
were visible of the impression which they must have ori- 
ginally made, would be decisive with every man, and 



32 THE GOSPELS, HISTORICAL. 

they never could command general credit. Therefore, I 
say, the contents of the four Gospels being such as they 
are, events public and extraordinary, it is difficult to con- 
ceive how these books could ever have come to be ex- 
tensively believed, if, when they were first published, 
whether soon or late after the things related took place, 
they had not been accompanied and corroborated by that 
strong, indispensable, though unestimated and unrecorded 
testimony which every public event brings with it through 
its connexions and relations with other matters of undis- 
puted notoriety. I am not maintaining as a general re- 
mark that a thing is proved to be true because it is be- 
lieved. This only do I say, that it is hardly possible to 
imagine how the four Gospels could ever have obtained 
credit if they were not substantially true, because they 
are not accounts of abstract opinions, they are narrations, 
not of private visions and secret experiences, but of pub- 
lic occurrences closely affiliated with the public affairs, 
persons and institutions of a certain period and a certain 
community. Their character being thus eminently cir- 
cumstantial, the fact that they have been credited, is no 
faint presumption that they are true — that when they 
were first published, they brought with them that collate- 
ral corroboration which is exceedingly powerful, although 
it is seldom or never defined and estimated. 

However, this is a digression from our proposed course 
of remark. My present design is, without reference to 
the authority or faith of others, to exhibit as far as is 
possible the truth oi tlw? Christian records, that quality in 



THE GOSPELS, HISTORICAL. 33 

them which appeals to a deeper faculty than the under- 
standing, from internal indications alone. With this view, 
we have now cast one hasty glance over these books, and 
the first thing that has arrested our notice, and furnished 
food for thought, is the obviously historical and public 
nature of their contents. From this trait we have in- 
ferred that they are either substantially true, or the most 
reckless fabrications ever published to the world. If the 
latter, then, there is an entire want of art in their compo- 
sition. No one actuated by a design to deceive, would 
have strung together so many details, since he would be 
thereby virtually collecting an untold weight of testimony 
to disprove the truth of his relations. I have not enter- 
tained the supposition that the authors of these books 
may have been self-deluded. In some particulars they 
may have been deceived. Whether they were or were 
not, remains to be seen upon a closer examination of 
these writings. We have looked now only- at the cir- 
cumstantial and public nature of the things they contain. 
So far as this is their character, they are inconsistent 
with delusion. Looking at the facts as they are given, 
having occurred as it is professed in the open air, at noon- 
day, in public places and amidst crowds, we hold that 
these accounts must be true in the main, or else such a 
want of art is evinced in their fabrication, as will show 
itself in their whole structure, and render it no difficult 
thing to settle fully their real character and claims. 



34 



CHAPTER III. 

THE MARKS OF HONESTY APPARENT IN THE GOSPELS. 

"So stands it, in short, with all forms of intellect, whether as 
directed to the finding of truth or to the fit imparting thereof; 
always the characteristic of right performance is a certain sponta- 
neity, an unconsciousness." — Edinburgh Review. 

I come now to the consideration of another and more 
decisive characteristic of these writings. It is the same 
trait upon which we have already remarked, but more 
strikingly manifested, showing itself in other ways; it may 
be designated as Unconsciousness or Simplicity. This 
feature reveals itself by luminous tokens. It appears in 
the most impressive manner that the authors of these 
books were wholly unconscious of any design to make 
out a case — to do anything but state facts. 

In the eleventh chapter of the fourth book, entitled the 
Gospel according to John, we have a minute account of a 
most extraordinary event, the raising of a dead man, 
Lazarus, to life. It is represented as having taken place 
in a public manner. The stone which covered the mouth 
of the tomb is removed. Jesus calls aloud to the dead 
man to come forth. And he comes forth in the presence 
of a number of persons. 



THE HONESTY OP THE GOSPELS. 35 

Now what does the narrative immediately proceed to 
inform us of? Why, that although some of the spectators 
were impressed and led to admit the extraordinary autho- 
rity of Jesus, others did not believe, were not impressed, 
but went away and told the enemies of Jesus what had 
taken place! We are told with great particularity how a 
most astonishing event took place, and in the same 
breath we are informed that some of those who stood by 
and saw it were unconvinced. And this information is 
communicated without the slightest appearance of reluc- 
tance or hesitation. Not an attempt is made — not a 
word is introduced to explain why the miracle failed to 
produce upon some who witnessed it, what we should 
consider its inevitable effect. It cannot even be said with 
propriety that they confess there were some present 
who did not believe. The information is not wrung from 
them. They give it freely, without the least conscious- 
ness of the ground it might seem to furnish for doubting 
the reality of the event. Here, I say, is a manifestation 
of the unconscious fearlessness of a true and honest 
mind, which beams out upon me like light from Heaven. 
I see here that the writer thought of nothing but telling 
the truth, and telling it too, as a matter of course, without 
the least parade of frankness. The facts he states may 
be hard to be believed, and difficult to be reconciled with 
one another; still he cannot help that, and he does not 
even think of helping it; he gives them without hesitation, 
without comment, without any anxiety about the effect 
of the narration. Here it is that the true inspiration of 



36 INSTANCES. 

these writings begins to be discernible, the inspiration of 
a single mind, unconscious of itself, stating the truth in 
the freest, simplest, most natural manner possible. 

Again. In the twenty-eighth chapter of the Gospel of 
Matthew, we have an account of the resurrection of 
Christ himself — of his appearing alive to his friends after 
he had been crucified and buried. " Then," so we read 
in the 16th and 17th verses, "the eleven disciples went 
away into Galilee, into a mountain, where Jesus had ap- 
pointed them. And when they saw him, they worshipped 
him, but some doubted,''' 1 — doubted whether it were indeed 
he. The most important event in the whole history, so 
we are explicitly informed, w T as doubted by some of those 
who had the best opportunity of ascertaining its truth ! 
What is this but another instance of that perfect fearless- 
ness, that indifference to effect, which truth can only 
have.* 

Once more. In the twelfth chapter of John, we read 
that when Jesus had uttered the words, " ' Father, glorify 
thy name,' there came a voice from heaven, saying, I have 
glorified it, and will glorify it again. The people, there- 
fore, that stood by and heard it, said that it thundered ; 
others said, an angel spake to him." What can be more 

• 
* The conclusion of Matthew's Gospel exhibits signs of being hur* 

ried. We may suppose that on the above-mentioned occasion there 

were many others present besides the eleven. It is said elsewhere, 

that Jesus was once seen, after his resurrection, by five hundred of 

the brethren. In so large crowd there must have been some who 

were unable to approach him near enough to be sure that it was he. 



INSTANCES. 37 

manifest, than that the writer had no thought here but of 
stating facts. He relates a most extraordinary occur- 
rence — the utterance of a voice from heaven, and, at the 
same time, without a word of explanation, tells us that 
the people who stood by and heard it, said that it was 
thunder.* It is these passages and others like them, that 
satisfy me that the narrators were honest — that they 
aimed only at relating things just as they took place. I 
see no shaping or accommodation of the events related to 
a particular design. There is a quiet, unobtrusive confi- 
dence in their mode of narration, which seems to me 
identical with a perfect conviction of truth — with a true 
spirit. I have given only a few instances ; enough, how- 
ever, to define and render prominent the characteristic 
of these writings upon which I am now remarking. 
Throughout, the same peculiarity is apparent. 

It is very often objected to the truth of the New Testa- 
ment history, that if the wonderful things therein recorded 
actually took place, how is it possible that they should not 
have convinced the great body of the people. They must 
have been irresistible, it is said, and we cannot conceive 
that they really could have occurred, or they would have 
produced a greater impression. We find that they were 
not believed — that the multitudes in whose presence Jesus 
is said to have done these astonishing works, clamoured 
for his blood, and joined in putting him to death. 

From a careful examination of the history, we may find 

* For further remarks on this passage, see Chapter XI. 
4 



38 THE UNBELIEF OF THE JEWS 

reasons, although they are not ostentatiously thrust for- 
ward, to suspect that the unbelief of the Jews was not so 
great nor so general as this objection supposes. In one 
passage we are expressly told that many of the chief men 
believed in Jesus, although their fear of their equals did 
not allow them to confess it* We are informed also 
that his enemies once and again dared not lay hands on 
him, because he was so generally favoured by the people. 
And then the seizure of his person, which took place in 
the night, and the disgraceful hurry of the Jewish court, 
by which he was pronounced guilty of blasphemy, create 
the idea that he fell a victim to a faction. The priests 
knew well enough that if they could only present him be- 
fore the people in the condition of a prisoner and a crimi- 
nal, the association of such circumstances with his pre- 
tensions as the Messiah would shock the public mind and 
exasperate a mob against him. Shortly after his final 
disappearance we read of the conversion of three thou- 
sand persons to the Christian faith. t This is usually 
represented as sudden and miraculous. But surely it is 
more natural to suppose that this large body of converts 
was composed mainly of those who had listened to the 
words and witnessed the works of Jesus. The tide of 
popular feeling was setting strongly in his favour, and the 
priesthood saw that his success must be their destruction ; 
and I cannot but think that he was put to death by means 

* John xii. 42. t Acts ii. 41. 



ADMITS OF EXPLANATION. 39 

of a sudden revulsion of feeling which the priests suc- 
ceeded in producing. 

But allowing the unbelief of the Jews to have been as 
inveterate and universal as is commonly represented, it 
may be perfectly accounted for, I apprehend, upon the 
known principles and constitution of human nature. Ex- 
perience and observation bear witness that when men are 
swayed by any inveterate bias or passion, they are im- 
pregnable to the strongest evidence contradictory of their 
idolized notions. Every day we see men unaffected by 
facts and considerations, whose force miracles could not 
increase. The slave of intemperance, for instance, sees 
his wife and children perishing before his eyes. Shame 
and ruin and death stare him in the face, and still he per- 
sists in his darling indulgence, and keeps on in the down- 
ward path of destruction. The love of power intoxicates 
in a similar way. The Jews were burning with the thirst 
of national glory — of earthly prosperity and success. They 
had long considered themselves a sacred people — the pe- 
culiar favourites of Heaven ; and they were stung to mad- 
ness at the thought of the foreign domination under which 
they had been brought — of the insolence of the Gentiles 
— "the sinners — the dogs," as they were wont to call 
them, who had enslaved them. They longed for triumph 
and revenge. They had set their hearts, like spoiled 
children, upon the appearance of a temporal prince and 
warrior to lead them on to victory and boundless renown- 
While absorbed by these passions, they could not bear to 
listen to one who, like Jesus, breathed peace and love and 



40 STATED WITHOUT EXPLANATION 

forgiveness. They could not endure to have those hopes- 
disappointed which they had so long cherished, and which, 
as they believed, their religion encouraged and sanctified. 

In fact the unbelief of the Jews not only admits of the 
explanation at which I have briefly hinted, but w T hen duly 
considered it becomes an indirect and inverted evidence 
of the power manifested by Jesus. It could not have 
been any ordinary thing that wound them up to such a 
degree of exasperation. There must have been no little 
weight in the words and works of Jesus, or they would 
never have raged against him with so much violence. 

But it is not my object now to give a full account of the 
unbelief of those in whose presence the wonderful works 
related in the Gospels were wrought. There is one thing 
upon which I wish to fasten the attention of the reader. 
Where is it that we learn that the Jewish people were un- 
affected by what was said and done by the man of Naza- 
reth? who is it that has told us that he was doubted and 
gainsaid by the mass of those among w T hom he lived 
and taught? It is the authors of the Gospels themselves — 
it is they, who without the slightest equivocation have re- 
corded the fact that the majority of the people, including 
the teachers of the Law, the leading men of the time and 
community, yes, and the members of his own family, gave 
no credence to the pretensions of Jesus. This fact they 
have recorded so unreservedly that they cease to appear 
as his friends and adherents. They rather seem like im- 
partial and uninterested spectators, having no feeling for 
the one side or the other ; no feeling, at least, that for a 



IN THESE HISTORIES. 41 

moment disturbs their determination to tell the truth. I 
say their determination. And yet this does not seem to 
be the proper word. For there is no appearance of effort, 
or constraint or labour, as if conscious of a temptation to 
unfairness they had to guard themselves accordingly. 
They write straight on as naturally as they breathe, stat- 
ing with equal explicitness or with equal brevity, the 
words and works of Jesus, and the objections and in- 
credulity of those around him, making no explanations, 
betraying no anxiety to influence the mind of the reader. 
In fine, their candour is for nothing more remarkable than 
for its unconsciousness. They do not seem to know that 
they are candid, or that they are actuated by a spirit in 
any degree remarkable and praiseworthy. Their honesty 
has no appearance of being put on. It is rather a part 
of their nature, the breath of their nostrils. If after all 
there is any mind so diseased with doubt as to fear that 
this character may have been assumed, I observe that it 
not only strikes me as utterly impossible, but if it were 
possible, then, for such deep laid and incredible cunning, 
there must have been the inducement of some most sel- 
fish and corrupt design, for the existence of which not 
a shadow of proof appears. But it is abundantly enough 
to say that if this is not candour — honesty, there is no 
telling what honesty is ; there can be no indubitable 
tokens of its presence, and we can have no ground for 
faith or confidence in man. 

The honesty of these narratives reveals itself in another 
way. 

4 * 



42 THE GOSPELS, NOT EULOGIES. 

It is evident that Jesus Christ is their principal subject. 
They are histories of his life. Their authors obviously 
considered him worthy of profound reverence and implicit 
credit. And yet their accounts have not the faintest 
shadows of the character or style of eulogies, panegyrics. 
How truly has it been said that " biographers, translators, 
editors, all, in short, who employ themselves in illustrating 
the lives or the works of others, are peculiarly exposed to 
the Boswellian disease of admiration." Whether the in- 
dividual described be a creature of the imagination, or a 
real personage, he becomes the hero of the writer, and the 
utmost pains are taken to set him off in the most glow- 
ing colours — to magnify his least excellence — to be silent 
about every trace of imperfection in him — to guard every- 
thing he says or does against misconstruction, or the slight- 
est impression of an unfavourable nature. Nothing of this 
sort appears in the Christian Records. No attempt at 
embellishment can be detected. There are no expres- 
sions of admiration, no prompting, no challenging of the 
applause of the reader. All is calm, direct, and simple. 

Indeed, in some cases it would appear that, so far from 
being conscious of any endeavour to heighten the effect 
of the things they relate, they not only do not do justice 
to the great subject of their biographies, but absolutely 
do not seem to have understood Jesus in all his elevation. 
There are passages from which one may incidentally, but 
on that account not the less fairly, infer that the conduct 
and meaning of Jesus were more beautiful than they have 
represented or even understood it. There is one curious 
case in point, which I proceed to consider. I do not af- 



JESUS NOT UNDERSTOOD A CASE. 43 

firm that the following view of it is necessarily the true 
view. I only say that it admits of the construction I put 
upon it. 

In three of the four books we have an account of ob- 
viously the same incident. I refer to the case of the 
woman who went behind Jesus in the crowd and touched 
his garments, and was instantly cured of a disease under 
which she had long suffered. In the Gospel of Matthew, 
this circumstance is related thus : 

" And behold a woman who was diseased with an issue 
of blood twelve years, came behind him and touched the 
hem of his garment. For she said within herself, if I may 
but touch his garment, I shall be made whole. But Jesus 
turned him about ; and when he saw her, he said, ' Daugh- 
ter, be of good comfort ; thy faith hath made thee whole.' 
And she was made whole from that hour." 

Mark's relation is this. "And a certain woman who 
had an issue of blood twelve years, and had suffered 
many things of many physicians, and had spent all that 
she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew 
worse, when she had heard of Jesus, came in the press 
behind, and touched his garment. For she said, ' If I may 
touch but his clothes, I shall be whole.' And straightway 
the fountain of her blood was dried up ; and she felt in 
her body that she was healed of that plague. And Jesus 
immediately knowing in himself that virtue had gone out 
of him, turned him about in the press, and said, 'Who 
touched my clothes V And his disciples said, ' Thou seest 
the multitude thronging thee, and sayest thou who touch- 



44 THE WOMAN WHO WENT BEHIND JESUS, 

ed me V And he looked round about to see her that 
had done this thing. But the woman, fearing and trem- 
bling, knew what was done in her, came and fell down 
before him, and told him all the truth. And he said unto 
her, ' Daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole, go in 
peace, and be whole of thy plague.' " 

Luke relates that " a woman having an issue of blood 
twelve years, who had spent all her living upon physicians, 
neither could be healed of any, came behind him and 
touched the border of his garment, and immediately her 
issue of blood stanched. And Jesus said, ' Who touched 
me V When all denied, Peter, and they that were with 
him, said, ' Master, the multitude throng thee and press 
thee, and sayest thou, Who touched me?' And Jesus 
said, ' Somebody hath touched me, for I perceive that 
virtue is gone out of me.' And when the woman saw 
that she was not hid, she came, trembling, and, falling 
down before him, she declared before all the people for what 
cause she had touched him, and how she was immediately 
healed. And he said unto her, ' Daughter, be of good 
comfort, thy faith hath made thee whole ; go in peace.' " 

Now, although we perceive in these three accounts 
such variations as we commonly find and naturally ex- 
pect in the different statements of honest and independent 
narrators, relating the same event, yet they all agree in 
one thing. They all tell us that when the woman came 
forward, Jesus addressed her in a cheering tone, assuring 
her that her faith had cured her. By this assurance, as I 
conceive, he intended to correct the impression she had 



AND TOUCHED HIS GARMENT. 45 

evidently entertained, that there was a miraculous power 
of healing in his very garments. It was through the 
power of her own faith — the influence of her own mind, 
that so instantaneous a cure had been effected. It was 
not as she had evidently surmised, through any medical 
virtue in his clothes, but through the energy of her own 
conviction, that she had been made whole. This seems 
to be the natural and obvious meaning of the few words 
he addressed to her. 

But, and here is the point to which I wish to direct the 
attention of the reader, he does not appear to have been 
understood by at least two of the narrators. For Mark 
says that Jesus discovered that some one had touched 
him, by the departure of a healing virtue from his person. 
And Luke represents Jesus as declaring in so many 
words that he had felt a miraculous virtue go out of him. 
That he really made any such declaration, his assurance 
to the woman that her faith had made her whole, forbids 
me to believe. It is much more natural to suppose that 
it was purely the inference of the historians that Jesus 
ascertained that some one had touched him, by the de- 
parture of a medical virtue from his body. They con- 
cluded that this was the way in which he found out that he 
had been touched : and one of them (Luke) has gone so far 
as to put words to this effect into his mouth. If these re- 
marks are correct, then it follows that the narrators did 
not reach the true import of the words of Jesus, when he 
said to the woman, " Thy faith hath made thee whole." 
His view — his representation of the case, was more simple 



46 NO DESIGN IN THE GOSPELS 

and spiritual than they supposed. I mean to say, in short, 
that they undertake to account for his knowing that some 
one had touched him, in a way which he evidently in- 
tended to disallow, when he bade the woman consider 
her own faith as the cause of her cure. 

It is natural to suppose that the woman, agitated by 
the most powerful emotions, did not merely touch his 
garments, but seized them with a quick, convulsive grasp, 
and so he felt something peculiar and significant in the 
movement, and, surmising the truth, was induced to turn 
round and ask who it was. 

If the account given above of this incident is admitted, 
how decisive, by the way, is the proof that the incident 
must actually have taken place. The narrators could 
not have recorded what they did not understand, if it 
were not real. 

I beg the reader not to permit the miraculous character 
of this occurrence to prevent his surrendering his mind 
to a full and candid consideration of the case. Upon the 
miraculous nature of many of the things related in these 
books, I propose to remark at length in the sequel. In 
the meanwhile, the reader is at liberty to regard this inci- 
dent as furnishing one of the cases, by no means rare, in 
which an immediate and extraordinary effect has been 
produced upon the physical frame, through the power of 
a strong mental impression. 

Whether the view I have taken of this case be correct 
or not, or whether there are any other instances in which 
the historians have fallen short of understanding the words 



TO PUT THINGS IN A STRIKING LIGHT. 47 

and conduct of Jesus, in their real greatness and simpli- 
city — one thing is plain enough. They evince no disposi- 
tion to magnify him. They do not show him off. They 
make no comments, suggest no explanations, calculated 
to place what he said and did in a striking light. In their 
simple and brief sketches they appear oftentimes to have 
omitted the mention of important circumstances illustra- 
tive of his words and works. They seem to have been 
so fully possessed with the reality of the things they 
relate, that the idea of their ever being disproved never 
crossed their minds. They show not the slightest mis- 
giving, lest others may fail to see and understand what 
is as clear to them as the sun at noonday. They betray 
no apprehension that the truth will not speak for itself, or 
that it needs any pains on their part to make it manifest. 
Hence the artless and careless brevity of their narrations. 
At one time, as they tell us, an individual said to Jesus, 
"Master, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest." 
Jesus replied, "The foxes have holes and the birds of the 
air have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay 
his head." Again, another offered to join Jesus, but begged 
permission first to go and bury his father. To him the 
reply was, "Let the dead bury their dead." On these oc- 
casions Jesus is represented as using a roughness incon- 
sistent with his usual mildness and consideration. We 
may suppose that the individual first mentioned was 
actuated by a mercenary feeling in offering to follow 
Jesus, that he hoped for some worldly advantage, and that 
Jesus, seeing or fearing that such was his motive, gave 



48 



INSTANCES. 



him timely warning not to expect anything of a worldly 
nature from him. With regard to the other, who desired 
first to be permitted to go and bury his father, we may 
with great probability conjecture that he made his filial 
duty a mere pretence for temporizing. He was not per- 
fectly sure that Jesus was the expected Messiah; and 
while he wished to wait awhile until the true character of 
Jesus should be more satisfactorily ascertained, he desired 
to secure the advantage of an early profession. His 
father, we ma)' even suppose, was not yet dead, but only 
very aged and infirm, and the request was in effect, " Let 
me first discharge my duty to my father, and then I will 
come and be your disciple." To him, therefore, the reply 
of Jesus was most appropriate, " Let the dead bury their 
dead," that is, let those, and they are numerous enough, 
who are dead — insensible to the claims of truth — to the 
import of what I say and do, perform the necessary offices 
for the dead. Such are the explanations of which these 
passages are susceptible. They certainly appear natural 
and probable. But observe, they are not given, they are 
not hinted at, by the narrators ; they are only indirectly, 
undesignedly suggested by the general tenor of their 
stories. They take no pains to guard against misappre- 
hension, or to place the conduct of Jesus in the best light. 
Here I behold the boundless confidence of truth. 

There are even more striking instances of the entire 
absence of any disposition to exaggerate the things re- 
corded in these books. Circumstances are related with 
the utmost brevity, and without any indication of fear 



THE SNEERS OF THE ENEMIES OF JESUS. 49 

which seem to be palpably inconsistent with the greatness 
and power ascribed to Jesus. We are told, for example, 
with an all-unconscious frankness, of the powerful appeals 
made to him by his enemies after he was fastened to the 
cross. They shook their heads at him, and cried, " If 
thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross. He 
saved others, himself he cannot save. If he be the king 
of Israel, let him now come down from the cross and we 
will believe him. He trusted in God ; let him deliver him 
now, if he will have him, for he said I am the son of God." 
Who has ever paused over these words for the first time, 
without feeling that they contained a bitter force — without 
secretly saying to himself, 'O why did he not come 
down ! If he had power to heal the sick and raise the 
dead, why did he not descend then from the cross and 
dissipate all doubt for ever !' Upon reflection, it is true, we 
recollect that he is never said to have used his extra- 
ordinary gifts for his own sake. It was not physical 
power that he sought to exercise, but moral power; the 
power of a love which no insensibility on the part of its 
objects could exhaust — of self-forgetfulness — of fortitude 
— of meek and patient endurance. He sought to show 
how one might do and endure, not from necessity, but 
voluntarily, to disclose the before unrevealed energy of a 
generous and self-denying free will. And had he relieved 
himself, had he shrunk from suffering pain and contempt, 
he must have forgotten his great spiritual purpose. 

But, although this explanation is at hand, the narrators, 
be it remembered, do not suggest it. They record the 

5 



50 THE TRO3TW0RTHJNESS 

sneers of his enemies, in all their naked force, unrelieved 
by a single word of comment. But I must pause here 
for the present. 

Many a one, I imagine, when disturbed with doubts 
about the truth of the New Testament history, has 
secretly wished that he had been permitted to live in 
those days — to be present on the spot, and then how 
easily might he have satisfied himself. For my own part, 
I confess, I shrink at the thought of such a trial. A trial 
it must have been, as every one will perceive, who is 
aware of his own weakness, and knows the tremendous 
power of the example of a multitude. I fear I should 
have wanted courage and candour to resist the accumu- 
lated authority of the rich, and great, and learned, of the 
mass of the people, and have fallen in with the general 
insensibility, or participated in those prepossessions 
which presented so effectual a barrier against the force 
of the words and works of Jesus. One thing does seem 
to me most desirable. Could I only have an account of 
those events from persons, or from only one person, whom 
I knew, in whose good sense, integrity, and fairness, I 
have perfect confidence, then I should have a ground for 
my faith, than which none could be surer. Could indivi- 
duals of this character have been present, and could we 
have their testimony, nothing would be wanting. I open 
the four Gospels, and I feel that this want has been sup- 
plied most amply. When I read these books in the way 
in which I am now attempting to do it, I care not what 
names they bear, I see — 1 know — that they are the work 



OF THE CHRISTIAN NARRATORS. 51 

of an honest and impartial spirit. Nowhere in the 
writings of the dead, or in the conduct of the living, do 
I discern evidences of integrity and singleness of mind so 
luminous and affecting. I see none of the art of a fraudu- 
lent design — none of the incoherence of self-delusion. 
These histories command my cordial confidence. They 
are to me full of inspiration, not a vague mystical inspi- 
ration, but the inspiration of truth and honesty, the same 
spirit that breathes in every honest man, in every true 
word, the Holy Spirit. God give us this spirit without 
measure ! 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 

" I only speak right on." 

We have remarked upon the honesty of the Christian 
historians, particularly as it is evinced in the manner in 
which they speak of the principal personage of their nar- 
ratives, the great object of their reverence and faith. 
They make no attempt to show him off. They manifest 
no apprehension about the impression that may be made 
by what they record. I am struck with the exhibition of 



52 THE REFUSAL OF JESUS 

their free, unguarded honesty, in the case which I am 
now about to mention. 

We are given to understand with the utmost explicit- 
ness in these books, that Jesus was possessed of the most 
extraordinary powers — that he could heal the sick, give 
sight to the blind, and raise the dead, by a word. Nume- 
rous instances are detailed with remarkable particularity, 
in which, in the most public and satisfactory manner, he 
exercised these miraculous gifts. But on more than one 
occasion we are told that some of the principal men of 
the community came to him, and requested him to per- 
form a miracle — to give them a sign, thus affording him 
an opportunity, as it would seem, of convincing them of 
his authority as a messenger from Heaven. " How long," 
said they, with apparently great plausibility, " how long 
dost thou make us to doubt] If thou be the Christ, tell 
us plainly." On these occasions, as the historians have 
not hesitated to inform us, he directly and uniformly re- 
fused to comply with the request made to him. They give 
us no explanation of the reasons of his refusal. They 
leave him open to the charge of having evaded an appeal 
apparently very fair. 

It is not my immediate purpose to state the grounds of 
the conduct of Jesus in these cases. Still, as it admits of 
an explanation at once sound and rational, not only in 
accordance with but illustrative of the dignity of his cha- 
racter and the spirituality of his object, I may be permitted 
to hint at it in passing. The Jewish nation, as I have al- 
ready had occasion to state, cherished the fond expecta- 



TO GIVE THE SIGN DEMANDED. 53 

tion of the appearance of a military leader and king, who 
should deliver them from Roman bondage, and place them 
where, as the peculiar people of God, they fancied they 
belonged, at the head of the human race. The existence 
of this expectation is proved incidentally, and therefore the 
more satisfactorily, by the Christian records. So we need 
not resort to other witnesses to establish this point, al- 
though they are not wanting. How tenaciously this hope 
clung to the minds of the Jews may be gathered from the 
conduct and feelings of the adherents of Jesus. The) 7 
evidently expected him to establish a worldly kingdom, 
and to distribute among them its chief offices and ho- 
nours, and out of this expectation there frequently rose 
among them jealousy and strife. After all that he had 
said and done to the contrary, they still cherished this 
hope to the very last. And just before his final disap- 
pearance their language is, " Lord, wilt thou now restore 
the kingdom to Israel ?" As confidently as the Jews look- 
ed for a Messiah, they looked for him to be a temporal 
Prince and Deliverer. 

Seeing then that this expectation existed so widely and 
deeply, is it not natural to infer that those who demanded 
of Jesus " a sign from heaven," failed of being convinced 
by what he did actually say and do, because, although it 
proved him to be no ordinary man, still it did not carry 
out and realize their darling idea of the Christ ! They 
wanted him to assume a character and to perform mira- 
cles, conformable to their cherished and pre-established 
notions. So that although at first sight it may appear 
5* 



54 THE PROBABLE NATURE 

that when they asked of him " a sign," they meant merely 
a display of miraculous power, no matter of what descrip- 
tion, we may suppose that they intended a sign of a par- 
ticular sort, a sign which should correspond to and justify 
their prepossessions. Indeed, it may be gathered from 
the Jewish writings, that an idea was entertained that the 
Messiah, when he came, would give some peculiar token 
or signal — some extraordinary display of power — a lumi- 
nous appearance in the heavens perhaps, for it is not dis- 
tinctly defined, which should be a credential of his autho- 
rity, to point him out to the people as the Messiah, beyond 
the possibility of mistake. The Apostle Paul, in his first 
Epistle to the Corinthians, observes, that the Jews seek 
after " a sign." And the inference is thus confirmed, that 
the sign sought was of a peculiar character, a sort of sig- 
nal corresponding to the universal idea of the expected 
Deliverer. The demand for a sign, therefore, was equiva- 
lent to a demand for evidence that he was such a person- 
age as was expected. But Jesus did not present himself 
to the nation as a military Leader. The office he assumed 
was infinitely superior to that of the most brilliant con- 
queror. Evidence therefore was demanded, of which the 
very nature of the case did not admit, and which he could 
not give. The grandeur and dignity of his aim prevented 
it. It was not he that made the Pharisees to doubt. Their 
doubts resulted from their own false prepossessions. 
These it was that led them astray or stopped them short 
of conviction. He could not speak more plainly than he 
had already done by word and work. And if these failed 



OF " THE SIGN FROM HEAVEN." 55 

to satisfy them, it was in vain that further evidence was 
asked for. He had nothing else to offer — nothing different 
in kind, nothing that those who were as yet unconvinced 
could appreciate, if they were not impressed by what he 
had already done. There were other things about to take 
place fitted to vindicate his authority. Events were ap- 
proaching, as he intimated, — his death and resurrection, 
— which in their significance and consequences would, like 
signs from heaven, attest that he was sent by God. 

But although the refusal of Jesus to comply with the 
demand of those who sought from him a sign, admits of 
so ample a justification, yet it is not obvious ; neither is 
it urged by the historians. And here again is the cha- 
racteristic to which I wish to direct particular attention. 
They have not shrunk from recording, with simple and 
fearless brevity, the fact that, on different occasions, when 
Jesus was asked to exercise his miraculous gifts, he re- 
fused to accede to the request. They show no apprehen- 
sion that the motive of his refusal may be misunderstood, 
or that he would come under the imputation of shrinking 
from a fair test of his power. They interpose no expla- 
nation to guard him against misconstruction. I can ac- 
count for this characteristic of their narrations only by 
supposing, either that the explanation was so obvious to 
them that they never thought it could be necessary to 
give it, or else, that their confidence in Jesus was so per- 
fect and entire, an unconscious feeling of their bosoms, 
that they never once dreamed that he could be suspected 
of an unworthy motive, however inexplicable his Ian- 



56 THE CONSISTENCY OF THE PASSAGES 

guage or his conduct on certain occasions might appear. 
Whether his words and works were understood or not, 
they do not appear to be aware that an injurious con- 
struction could by any possibility be put upon them. 
I know not what others may think, but it seems to me 
there is something so genuine, healthy, and natural, both 
in this state of mind, and in the way in which it manifests 
itself, that I cannot but refer it to truth and reality. 

There is a consistency so remarkable and evidently so 
wholly undesigned, on the part of the narrators, in the 
passages in which mention is made of " a sign from 
heaven," that I cannot help taking notice of it in this 
connexion, although it does not properly come under our 
present head. 

On one occasion we read, that just after Jesus had 
cured a demoniac in the presence of a multitude, some of 
the Pharisees asked him for a sign. He replied that he 
could give them no sign but his death and resurrection. 
At another time, immediately after he had driven the 
money-changers from the temple, he was asked to give a 
sign — to produce his credentials for the authority he had 
assumed. In this instance, also, his reply is an obscure 
allusion to his death and resurrection. "Destroy this 
temple, and in three days I will build it up." Once more, 
just after he had fed a large multitude in a miraculous 
manner, the people followed him demanding a sign, inti- 
mating that he had not done as much as Moses, who had 
given their ancestors bread from heaven, alluding to the 
manna gathered by the Israelites in the wilderness. To 



IN WHICH " THE SIGN" IS MENTIONED. 57 

this request Jesus answers at length, and obscurely, but 
the main points of his reply are his death and resurrec- 
tion. 

Now, we cannot fail to observe that the authors of these 
histories appear to be wholly unconscious of any remark- 
able keeping in these passages, and yet it is most curious. 
The circumstances upon these three occasions are entirely 
different, and so is the language of Jesus. But the ideas 
expressed, the feelings evinced, are in perfect harmony. 
On each occasion, the demand for a sign was made just 
after Jesus had performed a remarkable work. So that 
it would seem as if those present had really been in some 
degree impressed with his extraordinary power, and only 
wanted to be satisfied that he was such a person as they 
were looking for, to give into his claims at once. His 
reply is invariably the same in substance, though differ- 
ing entirely in form. He will give, he declares, no 
stronger evidence of the divinity of his mission, than 
would be expressed in events shortly to occur, his death 
and resurrection. These, he intimates, would furnish the 
most imposing proofs of his authority. 

I confess I want words to express the sense of reality 
produced by these passages, so different in detail, so sin- 
gularly consistent in substance. Of the consistency here, 
the writers do not appear to be at all conscious. They have 
taken no pains to make it apparent. It is perfectly natu- 
ral and easy, but it is not obvious. I do not know that it 
has ever before been remarked upon. 

I alluded just now to the driving of the money-changers 



58 THE MONEY-CHANGERS 

from the temple. It is related that " when Jesus found 
in the temple those that sold oxen, and sheep, and doves, 
and the changers of money sitting, he made a scourge of 
small cords, and drove them all out of the temple, and 
the sheep and the oxen, and poured out the changers' 
money, and overthrew their tables, and said unto them 
that sold doves, ' Take these things hence ; make not my 
Father's house a house of merchandise.' " This incident 
certainly appears, at first sight, to be inconsistent with 
the usual gentleness of Jesus, and that abstinence from 
all violence which he so emphatically inculcated, and on 
all other occasions exemplified. The reader has probably 
seen a picture representing him in the temple, with out- 
stretched arm, wielding the scourge with great vigour. 
I need not say how offensive it must have been. 

Without the least violation of probabilities, we may 
suppose, that on this occasion Jesus went into the temple 
attended by a large concourse of people ; and that, upon 
the first intimation of his will, the traders and money- 
changers, overturning the tables in their precipitation, 
fled before one who had the populace with him, as Jesus 
then had. The " scourge of small cords," so far from 
being an instrument purposely fashioned for violence, we 
may conjecture, was nothing more than a piece of cord 
found on the spot, and originally used for obvious purposes 
by the dealers in oxen and sheep, and taken and folded 
up into a sort of whip by Jesus, not perhaps with reference 
to the men, but the cattle. It is not by any means neces- 
sary to suppose that he even struck these animals, or 



DRIVEN FROM THE TEMPLE. 59 

that he assumed any attitude inconsistent with what we 
feel must have been the habitual dignity of his deportment. 
Candour justifies us in putting such a construction upon 
this incident, involving, certainly, no improbability. But 
the narrators do not hint at it. They have not feared to 
relate this event in the briefest and most careless manner. 
They have not told us how the dealers in oxen and sheep 
and doves, and the money-changers, came to be in the 
temple; although upon reflection it is clear that they 
were there to supply the demand for sacrifices and offer- 
ings for the temple-service, and to accommodate those 
who, coming from distant places, were under the neces- 
sity of exchanging their foreign money for the currency 
of Jerusalem. The authors of the Gospels have not told 
us these things, obviously because it never occurred to 
them that they needed to be told. Now, their confidence 
in the reality of what they were relating, and in the cor- 
rectness of the conduct of Jesus, is precisely like their 
knowledge of these circumstances, so settled and familiar 
a feeling with them, resulting from such obvious realities, 
so perfectly natural, that it does not occur to them that 
others may be deficient in these respects, and may re- 
quire explanations. In the familiarity of their own in- 
formation, and in the unconscious fulness of their own 
faith, they forget the possible ignorance and incredulity 
of others. Who can fail to recognise here the simplicity 
and integrity of their minds ? 

Once more. It is obvious that the authors of these 
writings must have considered Jesus as possessed of ex- 



60 A SENSE OP THE GREATNESS OF JESUS 

traordinary spiritual strength, great firmness or fortitude. 
If in the composition of their narratives they have had 
any earthly object but a distinct and honest statement of 
what they had seen, known, and believed, if they have 
fabricated, coloured, or even selected incidents for any 
particular purpose, we may suppose that it was for the 
sake of showing the superiority of Jesus to every human 
infirmity. The suspicion of such a purpose becomes ex- 
ceedingly natural when we consider two things. 

1. In the Epistles Jesus Christ is spoken of in the most 
exalted terms. He is described as the image of God, and 
the brightness of his glory. In him, it is said, dwelt the 
fulness of the Divinity. And again, in him, it pleased the 
Father that all fulness should dwell. But it is unneces- 
sary to specify passages. The Apostles appear to exhaust 
language in expressing their sense of the excellence of 
their master. 

2. But not only do the Apostles in their letters express 
in the strongest manner possible, and by the loftiest 
figures of speech, their sense of the greatness of their 
master, — at an early period, the idea sprung up, and it 
has almost universally prevailed ever since, that the man 
of Nazareth was a super-human being — super-angelic, — 
nay, the Supreme Being himself, the very God. He has 
literally been deified for ages. 

Believing Jesus Christ to have been a man, a man in- 
deed of miraculous gifts, and of unequalled moral great- 
ness, I see nothing either in the lofty language concerning 
him which we find in the Epistles, or in the prevalent 



LEADS TO THE USE OF LOFTY TERMS. 61 

faith of the Christian world, that does not admit of an 
easy and natural explanation. When I consider what 
power moral goodness has, even in its most imperfect 
manifestations, to touch and thrill the heart, and kindle 
the imagination, and inspire the utterance, I do not won- 
der that the Apostles used the boldest forms of speech to 
express the sense they had of the dignity and greatness 
of their Master. I do not content myself with referring 
to the strong and figurative character of the language of 
the East, although this is a circumstance not to be lost 
sight of. But I say it would have been strange indeed if 
they had employed cold and qualified terms when they 
spoke of Jesus. I honestly avow that I can find no epi- 
thets, no titles applied to him in their Epistles, which, with 
my views of his nature, I cannot cordially go along with. 
Had I been in their situation — had I cherished that fer- 
vent sense of his moral greatness, which they must 
have entertained, I am convinced I should have used lan- 
guage like theirs, and even stronger language, I might 
almost say, if that were possible. They apply no title 
to him, which, upon the supposition of his simple hu- 
manity, does not seem to me to have an appropriate sig- 
nificance. 

And then too, as to the general belief of Christians in 
the supreme divinity of Christ, it does not surprise me. 
In all times the tendency to deify the great and good 
has shown itself. Man has always been disposed to re- 
cognise the brightest manifestation of God in his own 
nature. What were the gods of the ancient Pagan world 
6 



62 NO SUCH BIAS SHOWN IN THE GOSPELS. 

but deified men, individuals of extraordinary energy! 
This popular doctrine, therefore, respecting the nature of 
Christ, which has so long prevailed, is to my mind a most 
expressive tribute to the transcendent excellence of his 
character. 

But the object of these brief allusions to the language 
of the Epistles and the common belief of Christians con- 
cerning Christ, is, to show how very natural is the suppo- 
sition, that the authors of the New Testament narratives, 
if they had had any earthly purpose beyond a simple 
statement of facts, would have been desirous of repre- 
senting Jesus as superior to every human weakness, as 
impassible to every form of temptation and grief. This 
has ever been the strong tendency, to exalt the great and 
good above the common attributes of humanity. But 
every suspicion of such a bias on the part of these writers, 
singularly impressed though they must have been with 
the greatness of Jesus, vanishes the instant we open their 
narratives. For we find that without the slightest at- 
tempt to explain, reconcile, or soften the apparent incon- 
sistency, they have mentioned in the plainest terms re- 
peated instances of human weakness in Jesus. I would 
not needlessly shock the reader, and therefore I observe 
in advance, that these instances, so far from obscuring 
the beauty of his character, heighten its effect. Upon 
this point, however, I will remark as I proceed. For the 
present, we have only to observe, that the instances re- 
ferred to are there, on the records, expressly detailed, and 
unqualified by a single word of explanation. 



JESUS TEMPTED. 63 

On one occasion, and this too at the very opening of 
his history, when, if they had had any anxiety about the 
effect of the things they were going to relate, the writers 
would have taken care to place Jesus in the best light, 
they represent him as tempted. It is true the temptations 
that assailed him are described as the suggestions of an- 
other, the Evil One. But it must be remembered that 
this representation is made in accordance with the rude 
philosophy, if so it may be termed, of the age, with the 
universally received idea, not that men were tempted by 
a malignant being assuming a visible shape, for under 
such circumstances the temptation of the weakest would 
be impossible, but that the evil thoughts and inclinations, 
arising in men's own minds, were to be attributed to the 
agency of an evil spirit. Agreeably to this opinion, the 
temptation of Jesus is described as the work of such a 
being. And in the same way any individual living at 
that time, and in that region, would in all probability have 
represented his own temptations, if called upon to relate 
them. Although it is thus described, I see no reason for 
supposing that the authors of the Gospels had any idea 
that the temptation of Jesus would be understood to dif- 
fer essentially from the temptations to which other men 
are exposed. If tempted then, as we are, he had thoughts 
and imaginings, which it became him to resist and banish, 
and thus the common weakness of our nature is made 
visible in him. This his biographers have unhesitatingly 
recorded. 

Once when he was speaking to his disciples of the 



64 JESUS WEEPING 

sufferings and death that awaited him, Peter, who was 
shocked at the thought that one, whom he believed to be 
the Christ, should be exposed to ignominy and violence, 
exclaimed, " Be it far from thee, Lord ! This shall not be 
done unto thee !" Jesus replied with great warmth and 
severity, and, by the strength of his language, showed 
that he was aware of the moral danger to which the sug- 
gestion of his warm-hearted friend exposed him. " Get 
thee behind me, Satan, thou art an offence unto me." As 
if he had said, « Hush ! thou art my enemy ! Wouldst 
thou tempt me V 

But he is placed before us, not only as tempted, but as 
moved by indignation, as shedding tears, nay, as over- 
come by the prospect of suffering, and disclosing his emo- 
tion by exclamations of distress and groans of agony. 

Twice is it particularly mentioned that Jesus wept. In 
both cases most needless is the mention of the fact, if the 
writers had had any purpose beyond a straightforward 
account of the things they had seen and heard. Jesus 
wept at the grave of Lazarus. But why did he weep 
there ? Does not the narrative give us distinctly to under- 
stand that he had determined to restore the dead man to 
life? We should rather have expected that his whole 
deportment would have been expressive of joy and tri- 
umph, at the near prospect of dissipating the sorrow of 
his friends, and that the air of gladness produced by his 
secret and benevolent purpose, would have been made to 
appear in striking contrast with the lamentations of those 
around him. But as it is, the historians tell us that he 



AT THE GRATE OF LAZARUS. 65 

wept and groaned in spirit, and was troubled. They 
barely state the fact. They offer no interpretation of it. 
Indeed it would seem to bear no explanation but that 
which those present put upon it. " ' Behold,' said they, 
' how he loved him.' And some said, ' Could not this 
man, who opened the eyes of the blind, -have caused 
that even this man should not have died]' " So it ap- 
pears that the narrative not only represents Jesus as 
giving way to tears, but as yielding to this weakness, 
when he had but little reason to weep, in morbid sym- 
pathy, for so we must esteem it, with a grief which he 
knew in his own heart was about to be turned into the 
most extravagant joy — a grief, which, seeing as he did, 
what was about to take place, must have appeared to 
him almost groundless. Certainly, the fact of Jesus 
weeping under such circumstances never would have 
been suggested nor recorded, if the writer had thought of 
anything but telling the truth. 

When we duly consider it, the grief of Jesus at the 
grave of Lazarus, is susceptible of an explanation, not 
quite so obvious as that just alluded to, but an explana- 
tion which, so far from marring the character of Jesus, 
gives us a new impression of its extraordinary elevation. 
If the narrative had mentioned only that he shed tears 
upon seeing the tears of Mary and those who were with 
her, we might refer his grief to the mere impulse of sym- 
pathy. But it was no slight or transient emotion by 
which he was affected. He appears to have been in a 
state of great depression. We have three several notices 
6* 



66 HIS MELANCHOLY ON THAT OCCASION, 

of his tears or sighs on this occasion. And if we bring 
fully into view what he was — what were his aims and 
prospects, we may conjecture a probable and adequate 
cause of his melancholy. That he was a man of great 
tenderness of feeling, is evident enough from the whole 
genius of his religion. Even though we had no direct 
information concerning him, we might confidently infer 
from the pacific and gentle character of Christianity, that 
its author must have been possessed of no common degree 
of sensibility. Peculiarly formed by nature to appreciate 
the delights and consolations of human sympathy, he was 
cut off from all these, so far as the objects and purposes 
nearest his heart were concerned. There were individuals, 
it is true, who were affectionately attached to him, but 
they did not understand him. They did not enter into 
his lofty views and sympathize with the great aim of his 
life. He was deprived of all human aids. It was impos- 
sible that he should be unconscious of his loneliness — of 
the profound and appalling solitude of the heart in which 
he stood — a stranger in the world which he loved and 
yearned towards with a new and unwonted love. When 
he stood at the grave of Lazarus, his own fate was near 
its consummation, and how natural is it that the tokens 
of human feeling and sorrow, and the sight of a grave, 
should bring over his mind, with peculiar vividness, a 
sense of his own melancholy situation — the thought of 
that rapidly approaching hour when he should suffer and 
die, without a single heart beating in unison with his. 
When, a few days after, Mary poured over his person 



CONSIDERED. 67 

the precious ointment, merely as an expression of her 
profound personal reverence, he immediately connected it 
with the thought of his death and burial. The perfumed 
ointment had to him the odour of the grave, and seemed 
as if intended to embalm his body. So, when I consider 
what he was, and how he stood in the world, I cannot 
wonder that he sighed deeply and was distressed, when 
the images of death and sorrow came thronging around 
him. That such should have been the feelings which 
caused him to sigh deeply and repeatedly, was touch- 
ingly natural. Besides, what a sense does it give us of 
his sublime superiority to all selfish weaknesses — to 
every emotion of self-complacency, that he should evince 
such a state of mind just when he was about to work 
a stupendous miracle, and exercise the most astonish- 
ing power! What an elevated idea may we form of 
his greatness, when we perceive that he was not in the 
slightest degree elated at the thought of the mighty work 
he was just about to do ! 

Such is the account that may be given of the melan- 
choly of Jesus at the grave of Lazarus ; and so the fact 
harmonizes with his character and situation. But the 
authors of the gospel have not breathed a single explana- 
tory word. 

When Jesus approached Jerusalem, attended by an 
immense multitude, shouting Hosannas, then too he wept. 
And then, too, it was, most probably, that he uttered the 
words, " Now is my soul troubled : and what shall I say ? 
Father, save me from this hour." How does his distress 



58 JESUS WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM. 

at such a time exalt our idea of him ! Not for a moment 
was he blinded by the imposing demonstrations of popular 
favour. The whole city was moved to meet him. The 
excitement was so great and the exciting cause so power- 
ful, that he declared that if the people could have been un- 
moved and silent, the very stones would have cried out. 
Harder, then, than the stones, must have been the hearts 
of those who remained unaffected by all that Jesus had 
said and done. The populace lavished upon him the 
most striking expressions of respect, spreading their 
garments before him. And he was weeping! He wept 
because he looked above and beyond the hour, because 
he was so completely elevated above the weakness of 
being imposed upon by the dazzling prospect of success, 
which his popularity at that moment may well have sug- 
gested to his mind. He saw that he was entering the 
city there to be condemned to death, and that the tide of 
popular feeling was shortly to be turned against him. 
The cross which he had long borne in imagination, now 
began to press with a close and oppressive weight upon 
his mind. He saw, too, the inevitable ruin of his country, 
and he broke forth into that pathetic cry, " O that thou 
hadst known, in this thy day, the things which belong 
to thy peace ! but now are they hid from thine eyes !" 
This incident, however, is recorded with the greatest 
brevity, and the narrators leave it to speak for itself. 
They linger not to point out its beauty. 



69 



CHAPTER V. 

THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 

"While he suffers, the spirit of God and glory rests upon him. 
There is a glory and a freshness sparkling in him by suffering, an 

excellency that was hidden. He that doth and can suffer shall 

have my heart." — Anon. 

There is one instance in which I cannot divest myself 
of the impression that Jesus is represented as speaking 
in a tone of haste and irritation. At least the historians 
in their fearless frankness have not breathed a word to 
guard us against such an impression. I refer to the ex- 
clamation, " Who is my mother, and who are my breth- 
ren !" Let us endeavour to appreciate the occasion on 
which these words were uttered. 

In the most public manner Jesus had, by his word, re- 
lieved a man, who had lost the powers both of sight and 
of speech, and who, according to the current belief of the 
times, was under the influence of a malignant spirit. 
Certain Pharisees, who were among the spectators, 
charged Jesus with being in league with the very prince 
of the evil spirits. By this charge, they virtually admitted 
that the cure he had just wrought transcended the power 



70 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

of man. One cannot but feel that such inveterate per- 
verseness of mind must have shocked him deeply. After 
replying to the charge in various ways, he went on to 
make those solemn declarations which have so often 
struck terror into the minds of readers : " All manner of 
sin and blasphemy will be forgiven unto men, but the 
blasphemy against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven 
unto men. And whosoever speaketh a word against the 
Son of man, it will be forgiven him, but whosoever speak- 
eth against the Holy Spirit, it will not be forgiven him, 
neither in this world, nor in the world to come." Now 
in the very form of these sentences, I think I perceive that 
they must have been uttered with great feeling — with the 
deepest emotion. They are in the shape of general pro- 
positions. They are couched in unqualified language. 
Deep feeling always craves this mode of expression. It 
delights to leap at once, from the particular circum- 
stances which have excited it, to the annunciation of a 
general or universal truth, or rather, such is its magni- 
fying power, that it immediately swells out the incident 
or object which has awakened it, whether it be joyous or 
otherwise, into a world-embracing light, or an all-obscur- 
ing darkness. It loses sight of all qualifications of time 
or circumstance. 

And here I cannot but mourn, to think how the thril- 
ling life of the Christian scriptures has been concealed 
through the Precognition of this mode of expression, so 
characteristic of intense feeling. Passages, from being ex- 
pressed in universal terms, have been understood as cold, 



FEELING EXPRESSED IN GENERAL TERMS. 71 

formal, creedlike statements of theological dogmas, when 
in fact they assumed their particular form because those 
by whom they were originally uttered or written, spoke 
or wrote from hearts bursting with emotion. Thus, for 
instance, a dry, doctrinal character has been given to the 
language of the Apostle Paul when he says " In Jesus 
Christ neither circumcision availeth anything nor uncir- 
cumcision, but a new creation." And yet, when I con- 
consider the connexion of these words, I cannot help 
feeling that in this general way, he was giving expres- 
sion to his own burning experience. He exclaims just 
before, " God forbid that I should glory, save in the Cross 
of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified 
unto me, and I unto the world." And then, he adds, 
" For in Jesus Christ, neither circumcision is of any im- 
portance, nor uncircumcision, but a new creation."* 
What an immense change had taken place in the mind of 
Paul! The Cross, that instrument of suffering — that 
symbol of the deepest shame, had become, in its spiritual 
aspects, its moral manifestations, his central light, and a 
glory streamed from it, which was as the glory of God ! 
Well did he say, and he must have uttered it from the 
fervent feeling of his own soul — ' To be a Christian, is to 
be ushered into a new creation.' In eyes, illuminated by 
the moral light of the Cross of Christ, all things are 
changed. The old world with its artificial standards of 
judgment and thought, its superficial distinctions, vanishes 

* Not • a new creature.' 



72 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

utterly away, and a new world appears, a world, not of 
outward observance, but bound together by the moral in- 
fluences, and irradiated by the spiritual light of the Cross 
of Christ. 

But to return. On the occasion mentioned above, they 
who cavilled at the astonishing work wrought by Jesus, 
betrayed a moral blindness, hopeless to the last degree. 
A work which they confessed to be superhuman, and in 
which power and benevolence were miraculously dis- 
played, they refused to refer to the agency of God. As I 
conceive, and as I have already said, Jesus was shocked 
at the impenetrable hardness of their hearts. And it is 
as if he had said, ' any other sin or blasphemy, of which 
men may be guilty, they may be forgiven, for they may 
repent of it ; but you are past repentance, you, who speak 
against the Spirit of God, so overpoweringly mamiested. 
There is no hope of you. You cannot be moved, and 
of course you cannot be forgiven. He who speaks 
against me as a man, without knowledge of my words 
or works, as, no doubt, many do, may be forgiven, 
for he may repent ; but when a man sets himself against 
God, against the most striking exhibitions of God's pre- 
sence and agency, there is no hope for him, now, or 
ever.' Such I believe to be substantially the meaning of 
this passage. It was uttered with direct reference to a 
peculiar case, and in that general and unqualified manner, 
which the deep feeling, excited by the case, naturally 
prompted. 

The Pharisees immediately ask Jesus for a sign. And 



PHARISEES TRANSIENTLY IMPRESSED. 73 

this request in connexion with the peculiar circum- 
stances, intimates, as I have suggested in another 
place, that the Pharisees were momentarily impressed by 
what he had done, and were ready to believe in him, if 
he would only do a work which should prove him to be 
such a Christ as they expected. That this was their 
state of mind is implied by what follows. For, after say- 
ing that no sign of his authority would be given them 
except his death and resurrection, he goes on to describe 
the condition of a man suffering under one of those vio- 
lent maladies, which in those days were ascribed to evil 
spirits, and which come on by paroxysms ; evidently hint- 
ing in this description at the moral condition of the Phari- 
sees. They might appear for a little while to be forsaken 
by the evil spirit of unbelief which possessed them. But 
its departure was only temporary. It would return like 
other diseases with seven-fold fury and violence. 

We come now to the point which I wish to make pro- 
minent. The narrative proceeds to inform us that while 
he was speaking, speaking, as I have represented, with the 
greatest earnestness and solemnity, one said to him, 
" Thy mother and thy brethren stand without, desiring to 
speak with thee." Some thoughtless individual, insensible 
to the import of his words and to common decorum, or, 
it might have been, some one, who disliked the direction 
his remarks were taking and was glad of an opportunity 
to break them off, interrupted him, telling him that his 
mother wanted to see him. Now it seems to me he was 
disturbed at the interruption, ("aegre ferens interpella- 

7 



74 " WHO IS MY MOTHER, 

tionem," says Kuinoel) and that the exclamation, " Who 
is my mother, and who are my brethren !" reveals a mo- 
mentary excitement of mind. So full was he of what he 
was saying, and so offended, if I may be allowed the ex- 
pression, that he utters himself as if he had forgotten that 
he had either mother or brethren. 

I am unable to understand the feelings of those who 
can consider this incident, thus regarded, as indicating any 
defect in the character of Jesus. It reveals his humanity, 
it is true, but in so doing, in showing him affected by human 
feelings,— weaknesses, if you please, it heightens my 
reverence for him and makes him live more vividly in my 
faith and affections. With not a trace of human weak- 
ness, his character might have been beautiful, but its 
beauty would have been unreal and visionary, appealing 
only to the imagination. It could have had no foundation 
in nature, no power over the deep and active sympathies 
of the human soul. There is none absolutely good but 
one, God. We want not a character absolutely good in 
the person of a man, for that would be an inconsistency 
in the nature of things, but we want a specimen of the 
perfection of a nature, still seen and felt to be a human 
nature, possessing the inherent, ineradicable principles of 
humanity. My mind does not pause with the least regret 
over the hasty feeling which prompted the exclamation, 
" Who is my mother, and who are my brethren !" but I 
feel all the more deeply the touching manner in which he 
corrects himself, the evidence he immediately gives of the 
tenderness of his filial and fraternal affections, when, ex- 



AND WHO ARE MY BRETHREN !" 75 

tending his hand towards his disciples, and, as if he could 
say nothing more affectionate, he adds, " Behold my 
mother and my brethren! For whosoever will do the 
will of my Father in Heaven, the same is my brother and 
sister and mother." 

In commenting upon this passage I have followed the 
Gospel of Matthew. Luke relates the circumstances of 
the same occasion, but he does not mention that the 
mother of Jesus desired to see him. He only mentions 
that a woman of the company lifted up her voice and 
said unto him, " Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and 
the breasts that gave thee nourishment !"* Is there not 

* To this benediction, Jesus replied " Yea, rather blessed are they 
who hear the word of God and keep it." Here, by the way, we have 
an instance of that mode of speaking, upon which I was just remark- 
ing- — a proposition general in its terms, but prompted by, and applying 
to a particular case. It was not a formal declaration, but a spon- 
taneous and sudden exclamation. We cannot doubt that when Jesus 
uttered these words, he fastened his eyes upon the woman whose lan- 
guage had called them forth. And it is as if he had said, " Dost thou 
deem my mother happy? Rather most blessed art thou if thou 
but know thy present privilege, and hearing what I say, bear thyself 
accordingly." How deeply absorbed he was with what he had just 
been saying, we may infer from the sensitiveness he evinces to the 
least disposition on the part of his hearers to think of anything else. 

When the woman uttered this benediction on the mother of Jesus, 
little did she dream that she uttered a sentiment to which, in the wor- 
ship of the Virgin, the world was for ages to respond; and which was 
to be embodied in the finest efforts of Art. In the adoration of the 
infant Jesus and his mother have we not a touching tribute to the 



76 THE HISTORIANS MENTION 

a probable coincidence here between the two narratives? 
Some one, as we learn from Matthew, told Jesus that his 
mother was waiting for him. Upon the mention of his 
mother, a woman, herself probably a mother, exclaimed 
in effect, " Thy mother ! what a blessed woman thy 
mother must be!" The whole passage is redolent of 
nature and life. Is it looking at it too curiously to see 
in the introduction of the word, " sister," a little frac- 
tion as it were, a bright but delicate hue of truth 1 Ob- 
serve, according to Matthew, Jesus says, " Whoever will 
do the will of my Father in Heaven, the same is my 
brother and sister and mother." Bringing before the 
imagination the whole group, keeping in view the sensi- 
bility of the woman who had just broken forth in blessing 
her who had born such a son, may we not suppose that 
he was led, unconsciously as it were, to increase the point 
and emphasis of the sentiment, by the introduction of the 
sisterly relation — turning his eyes as he spake towards 
the woman 1 

But my present object is to illustrate the honesty of the 
Christian historians, evinced in the unconcern with which 
they record repeated instances of human weakness in 
Jesus. The most striking case in point, and the last 
I shall mention, comprehends all the notices of his conduct 
and bearing at the prospect and in the agonies of death. 

power with which Christianity has appealed to some of the best and 
tenderest affections of our nature ? With the manhood of Jesus the 
world has yet to learn to sympathise. 



INSTANCES OF GREAT EMOTION IN JESUS. 77 

The narrators have not hesitated to mention words and 
actions of his, expressive of the greatest distress at the 
thought of the fate that awaited him. And the extravagant 
explanations to which Christians in subsequent times 
have had recourse in their anxiety to avoid what certainly 
appears to be the most obvious inference, namely that Jesus 
was smitten with horror at the thought of dying, only serve 
to show off most strikingly the simple honesty of the his- 
torians who have related the facts without one explana- 
tory remark. Once at a comparatively early period he is 
said to have exclaimed, " I have a baptism to be baptized 
with, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished !" In 
other words, ' I have a terrible trial to go through, and oh ! 
the agony till it be over !' Again, " Now is my soul troubled, 
and what shall I say !" Surely these are expressions of mor- 
tal suffering. To his betrayer he is represented as say- 
ing, " What thou doest, do quickly." Do not these words 
show that he felt the intolerable wretchedness of suspense? 
And then in the garden just before he was seized and led 
away to trial, what a scene of misery is disclosed ! He 
went to that, his favourite place of resort, accompanied by 
the eleven. When he reached the spot, he took his three 
intimate friends, bidding the rest remain where they were. 
In the company of these three " he began to be sorrowful 
and very heavy." He said to them, " my soul is exceed- 
ing sorrowful even unto death," in other words, ' The 
anguish of my mind is so great I feel as if I should die.' 
Shortly he left these three and went apart and threw him- 
self prostrate on his face, and prayed that if it were possi- 
7 * 



78 HIS AGONY IN THE GARDEN. 

ble, the torture to which he was about to be put, and 
which he was already suffering in anticipation — the bitter 
cup of mortal agony, which he was about to exhaust to 
its very dregs, might be put aside. He returned to his 
three friends, and then went away again, and prayed in 
an agony of mind so intense that the sweat poured from 
him as if it had been his life-blood, and again he returned, 
and again he went apart by himself, uttering the same 
prayer every time — that. he might be excused, if it were 
possible, from the dreadful hour which was at hand. No 
doubt he said much more to the same purport, but his 
disciples, who were exhausted probably with watching 
and excitement, fell asleep, awaking only for a few mo- 
ments when he approached them, and therefore catching 
only a few words.* Thus we are not only explicitly told 
that he was in an agony, but in going away by himself 
and returning to his friends, as he did again and again, 
it seems to me a state of mind is disclosed almost border- 
ing on distraction. He turned repeatedly from man to 
God — from Heaven to Earth, seeking some relief, some 

* It really pains me to hear it asked, as it has been often, how the 
disciples could have seen what Jesus did, if, as they say, they were 
asleep ; it is so easy and natural in common candour to suppose that 
when Jesus approached they awoke, and when he went aside they 
observed him for a few moments, and then their drowsiness returned. 
Instead of suggesting such captious queries, it becomes us to admire 
the unsuspecting confidence of the narrators, who were unable to 
conceive that any one could be so narrow — so devoid of candour, as 
not to supply the necessary explanations. 



THE FACT MERELY STATED IN THE GOSPELS. 79 

support amidst the horrors that environed him, and for 
awhile seeking it in vain. 

Here, surely, is a revelation of human weakness. This 
passage in the life of Jesus, has given occasion not only 
to the captious and cavilling, but even to some serious 
and well-disposed minds to question his fortitude, and 
deny him that perfectness of character which his fol- 
lowers have ascribed to him. Comparisons unfavourable 
to him, have been suggested between him and the Grecian 
sage, who drank the deadly hemlock without the least 
agitation. And Christians, it would appear, from their 
far-fetched explanations of this portion of the history, have 
been greatly embarrassed by it. It is common to say 
that the agony of Jesus in the garden, arose from his 
having then the sins of the whole world laid upon him. 
In this account of his suffering, there is a pretty distinct 
figure of speech, and that is all. But it has proved suffi- 
cient to satisfy those who go not beyond words, if they 
are only put together with grammatical propriety. In 
truth, a greater absurdity could hardly be fabricated. It 
is scarcely necessary to say that there is not a whisper of 
any such theory of the facts, nor indeed of any explana- 
tion of them whatever. The circumstances are given 
with the utmost simplicity. They are not put together 
in a shape to indicate any particular solution. They 
show no design on the part of the narrators to make out 
a case one way or another. So possessed do these appear 
with one simple object, namely a narration of facts, that 
so far from being on their guard against unfavourable im- 



80 THE MOST NATURAL ACCOUNT 

pressions, the thought of misconstruction seems never to 
have occurred to them. They place Jesus before us in 
the greatest agony, and leave us no way of accounting 
for it, but by resolving it into the dread and anguish pro- 
duced by the prospect of death, and its attendant horrors. 
The reality of this scene of suffering alone accounts for 
its being narrated. Had the historians been any other 
than the truest and most single-hearted of men, had they 
been conscious of any feeling but that calm and perfect 
confidence which truth alone can produce, they would 
have omitted these passages, as they might have done 
very easily. Can we discern such manifest inspiration — 
the inspiration of the Spirit of Truth, and not have every 
doubt superseded by a living faith 1 

At first view, the agony of Jesus at the thought of the 
terrible death that awaited him, may seem to indicate a 
great want of fortitude. But candidly meditated, it dis- 
closes the unparalleled greatness of his character. O 
compare him not with Socrates ! The Grecian philoso- 
pher was an old man, meeting death in a form compara- 
tively mild and easy. The peasant of Judea was in the 
bloom of life, and a fate peculiarly excruciating and igno- 
minious was before him. The former was surrounded by 
adoring, idolizing friends, who felt with him and for him, 
and so helped to inspire him with the requisite strength. 
When a man feels that there are those about him who 
enter into his spirit, and understand and honour his pur- 
poses, and applaud him for what he is doing, be they few 
or many, they become all the world to him, and they com- 



OF THE AGONY IN THE GARDEN. 81 

municate to him, unconsciously it may be, a world of 
spiritual force ; such are the mysterious sympathies that 
connect man with man. And such was the support . of 
the Athenian philosopher. But the Man of Nazareth had 
no human aids. With a nature of almost feminine ten- 
derness — a heart all alive and glowing with the most 
generous affections, yearning towards humanity with a 
more than fraternal interest, he had not a single being on 
earth to whom he could unbosom himself. It is true 
there were those around him who were warmly attached 
to him. But they understood not the great object for 
which he had lived, and for which he was about to die. 
So far as that was concerned, the dear and sacred pur- 
pose of his being, they were to him no more than the 
dumb brute, who, with blind affection, follows his master. 
I might almost say they were less, for sympathy could 
not be looked for from the brute. To them it was all 
darkness and mystery. Jesus stood alone in the world 
in the profoundest sense. Peculiarly constituted to ap- 
preciate human sympathy and to be sustained by it, he 
saw that this prop was stricken away from beneath him. 
Every earthly source of strength and encouragement was 
closed against him. He was to suffer, suffer fearfully and 
alone, without having been able to make a single human 
being so far understand what he was to suffer for, as 
to derive comfort and support therefrom. To the very 
last, his nearest friends misconceived his purpose alto- 
gether ; as the contention which arose among them at the 
last Supper showed only too plainly. It was, I believe, 



82 H*S AGONtf, A REVELATION 

this utter loneliness that constituted the peculiar severity 
of his trial. Here was the bitterness of death. This it 
was, that made the still and lonely hour of midnight, just 
before his crucifixion, the hour when the soul is left to 
itself, undistracted by external sights and sounds, so 
awful to him.* Human sympathy surrounds and sustains 
a man insensibly. It is like the unfelt pressure of the 
atmosphere, or the force of gravitation. 

Had Jesus, therefore, been otherwise than most deeply 
affected by the circumstances in which he was placed, I 
confess I should have painfully felt that there was in his 
character a want of sensibility. It might then have been 
suspected that his mind was in a state of unnatural ex- 
citement — that it was deriving its strength from some 
stimulus provided by a diseased imagination — that he 
saw things around him not as they were, but in some 
false light. The agony he suffered satisfies me that the 
fortitude that followed it was the pure unadulterated 
quality, without any earthly admixture. The calmness 
which others have shown in dying, may have been pro- 
duced by no higher cause than a mere sentiment of 
honour, more or less disguised. But in Jesus, I am now 

* " Truly night was made for sleep ; since to its wakeful hours 
belongs an oppression unknown to the very dreariest hours of day. 
The stillness is so deep, the solitude so unbroken, the fever brought 
on by want of rest so weakens the nerves, that the imagination exer- 
cises despotic and unwholesome power, till, if the heart have a fear 
or sorrow, up it arises in all the force and terror of gigantic exagge- 
ration." — Akos. 



NOT SO MUCH OF WEAKNESS AS OF STRENGTH. 83 

convinced that the composure, which, it cannot be denied 
after all, he did habitually exhibit to an astonishing de- 
gree, was not a matter of temperament, or of an excited 
imagination, but the offspring of the purest and most ele- 
vated spirituality. He saw his condition in all its horrors, 
nay, he felt them acutely, and in agony of spirit, and yet 
— and yet he went calmly forward, and did and suffered 
all that was necessary. He presented himself on that 
memorable night, with a demeanour so collected and so 
dignified before the persons who came to seize him, that 
they were for a moment overawed, and, like the soldier 
sent to assassinate Marius, they shrunk back unable for 
awhile to lay hands on him. Utter insensibility to pain 
is scarcely anything more than a physical quality. True 
fortitude is that virtue which a man exhibits amidst the 
consciousness of great suffering. He who shudders at 
death, and is overcome by the thought of pain, and yet 
for some generous purpose exposes himself to both, 
awakens in the mind a far deeper sentiment of power 
than he who shows himself wholly unaffected by these 
things. 

Such, briefly, are some of the considerations which help 
to explain the agony of Jesus, and to put this part of his 
history in its true light — where it may be seen as a mani- 
festation of the purest spiritual power, and not an expo- 
sure of weakness. I do not, of course, pretend to give a 
full account of the deadly anguish which he endured. No 
one can do this fully, until he has entered deeply into the 
mind and spirit of Jesus, and learned to appreciate the 



84 THE CRY OF DISTRESS ON THE CROSS. 

great spiritual purpose of his life. I cannot fathom the 
depths of that agony. Great as it was, his piety was 
greater still, and secured its perfect victory. 

There remains only one particular to be noticed in this 
connexion, and the remarks already made render it un- 
necessary to dwell upon it. I allude to the language 
ascribed to Jesus on the cross, " My God, my God, 
why hast thou forsaken me !" The explanations usually 
given of this language, and by which it is attempted to 
avoid the impression that it was an exclamation of mo- 
mentary agony and despair, seem to me forced and un- 
natural, altogether too refined for the physical condition 
in which Jesus was. I cannot but regard it as an ejacu- 
lation, wrung from him by the intense suffering of the 
moment. How does it enhance the beauty and pathos 
of the piety — the forgiveness, the filial affection which he 
manifested in that terrible hour, when we consider that 
these touching and noble qualities were evinced by one 
so acutely sensible of pain — of a temperament so suscep- 
tible, that, for a moment, he was overwhelmed by the 
frightful agonies of crucifixion ! 

But the circumstance that arrests my attention and im- 
presses me most powerfully, is the artless and honest 
brevity with which the narrators have put this exclama- 
tion of pain and despair on record. Had they not been 
raised above every thought of embellishing the character 
of Christ, they never would have mentioned a circum- 
stance of this kind, at least without some explanation. 

As the narrators are thus free from any design to show 



THE NARRATORS BETRAY NO ILL WILL. 85 

off, and exaggerate the great subject of their narratives, 
so is it equally clear, on the other hand, that in the com- 
position of these stories, they were unconscious of any 
angry or malignant feeling towards the opposers of Jesus. 
They betray no desire to excite the passions of the reader 
against those who persecuted him. This point has been 
happily illustrated by Dr. Campbell, in the Dissertations 
preliminary to his translation of the four Gospels. The 
absence of all bitterness, in the minds of these historians, 
is shown by their indifference about the names of the 
enemies and persecutors of Jesus. It is remarkable, as 
Dr. Campbell has observed,* that the names of the High 
Priest and his coadjutor, of the Roman Procurator, of the 
tetrarch of Galilee, and of the treacherous disciple, are all 
that are mentioned of the many who, no doubt, took an 
active part in the prosecution and death of Jesus. In re- 
gard to the first four, the omission of their names could 
have made no difference, for their offices were so public 
and eminent, that the official title was equivalent to the 
designation of the individual. And the part that Judas 
took was altogether too prominent and notorious, to ad- 
mit the suppression of his name. " Whereas of those 
Scribes and Pharisees, who bargained with Judas, of the 
men who apprehended Jesus, of the officer who struck 
him, of those who afterwards spat upon him, buffeted, and 
mocked him, of those who were loudest in crying, ■ Away 

* The Four Gospels, &c. by G. Campbell, D. D., Diss. 3. Sec. 22. 
8 



86 THEY RECORD THE NAMES 

with him, crucify him — not this man, but Barabbas ;' of 
those who supplied the multitude with the implements of 
their mockery, of those who upbraided him on the Cross 
with his inability to save himself; or of the soldier who 
pierced his side with a spear, no name is given by any of 
the historians." It may be said, that the names of these 
individuals were not known to them. It is very probable 
they were not. But had the narrators been acting the 
part of partisans, in the accounts they have left us, had 
they been conscious of any angry or vindictive feeling, 
they would have sought the names of those who made 
themselves prominent in these cruel and disgraceful acts. 
" This reserve, in regard to the names of those who 
were the chief instruments of the sufferings of Jesus, is 
the more observable, as the names of others, to whom no 
special part is attributed, are mentioned without hesita- 
tion. Thus Malchus, whose ear Peter wounded, and who 
was, immediately after, miraculously cured by Jesus, is 
named by John ; but nothing further is told of him, than 
that he was present when our Lord was seized, and that 
he was a servant of the High Priest. Simon the Cyre- 
nian, who carried the Cross, is named by no fewer than 
three of the Evangelists ;* but we are also informed that 
in this service he did not act voluntarily, but by compul- 

* There appears to have been a particular reason for mentioning 
this individual. He was the father of Alexander and Rufus, the lat- 
ter of whom appears at a subsequent period to have been a Christian 
of some eminence at Rome. — See Rom. xvi. 13. 



OF FRIENDS, BUT NOT OF FOES. 87 

sion. Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus are the only 
members of the Sanhedrim, except the High Priest, who 
are mentioned by name ; but they were the only persons 
of that body who did not concur in condemning the Son 
of God, and who, though once fearful and secret disciples, 
assumed the resolution to display their affection, at times 
when no one else ventured openly to acknowledge him. 

" Of the Scribes and Pharisees who watched our Lord, 
and on different occasions, dissembling esteem, assailed 
him with captious and ensnaring questions — of those who 
openly ascribed his miracles to evil Spirits, called him a 
madman, a demoniac, and, what they esteemed worse 
than either, a Samaritan, who accused him of associating 
with the profligate— of Sabbath-breaking— of intempe- 
rance and blasphemy, and of many others who put them- 
selves in attitudes of opposition to Jesus, no names are 
ever mentioned, nor is the young, but opulent magistrate 
named, who came to him with the question, * What shall 
I do to inherit eternal life,' for, though there were some 
favourable symptoms in his case, yet as by going away 
sorrowful, he betrayed a heart wedded to the world, the 
application did not terminate to his honour. But of Si- 
mon the Pharisee, who invited our Lord to his house, of 
Jairus and Bartimeus and Zaccheus and Lazarus and his 
sisters Mary and Martha, and some others, of whose 
faith, repentance, gratitude, love and piety, the most ho- 
nourable testimony is given, a very different account is 
made. 

" As to the disciples of Jesus, in recording their faults, 



88 THESE NARRATIVES, UNSTUDIED. 

no secret is made of their names. Of this, the intempe- 
rate zeal of the sons of Zebedee on one occasion, and 
their ambition and secular views on another, the incredu- 
lity of Thomas, the presumption of Peter, and his lamen- 
table defection in the denial of his Master, not to mention 
the prejudices and dulness of them all, are eminent ex- 
amples. These particulars are all related with the same 
undisguised plainness which they use in relating the 
crimes of adversaries, and with as little endeavour to ex- 
tenuate the former, as to exaggerate the latter." 

And yet, after all, there is nothing studied in the style 
of these narrations, no appearance of care or pains taken 
to suppress one name, or introduce another. There is 
throughout an impressive forgetfulness of effect. It is 
common to speak of the authors of the four Gospels, 
as witnesses. But the idea of a witness conveys the 
impression of one speaking guardedly, as upon his oath, 
and as in the presence of individuals ready to cross- 
examine, and to doubt. But there is no appearance of 
this kind about these historians. When the mind is fully 
impressed and completely filled with any truth, whether 
of opinion, sentiment or fact, we find it impossible to 
think that others cannot see things just as we see them. 
What is so obvious and present to us, we imagine must 
be equally so to all. This appears to have been the 
predominant feeling in the minds of the writers of the 
Christian narratives. To them, the reality of the facts 
they record, was as indisputable as that of the sun in 
heaven, and abidingly filled with this conviction, they 



CONSISTENCY OF THE CHARACTERS DESCRIBED. 89 

could not sympathise with the doubting, and the incredu- 
lous. They lived, and moved, and spoke, and wrote, 
with the truth of the things they relate filling and sur- 
rounding their minds like an atmosphere. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE CONSISTENCY OF THE CHARACTERS ALLUDED TO IN THE 
FOUR GOSPELS. 

" I should have laid little stress upon the repetition of actions sub- 
stantially alike, or of discourses containing many of the same expres- 
sions, because that is a species of resemblance, which would either 
belong to a true history, or might easily be imitated in a false one. 
Nor do I deny, that a dramatic writer is able to sustain propriety 
and distinction of character, through a great variety of separate in- 
cidents and situations. But the evangelists were not dramatic 
writers ; nor possessed the talents of dramatic writers ; nor will it, I 
believe, be suspected that they studied uniformity of character, or 
ever thought of any such thing in the person who was the subject of 
their histories. Such uniformity, if it exists, is on their part casual." 

Pa LEY. 

In these histories there is one personage who holds the 
first place, and of whose words and acts and sufferings 
they are obviously sketches. There are other individuals 

8* 



90 THE NARRATORS, "WHOLLY UNCONSCIOUS 

introduced more or less conspicuously. And they are 
as easily distinguishable as so many personal acquaint- 
ances. Now it is the remarkable peculiarity of these 
writings that the vivid and consistent ideas which they 
give us of the persons whom they mention, are communi- 
cated without the least appearance of design, or even of 
consciousness on the part of the narrators. They do not 
seem to be in the slightest degree aware that they are 
enabling the reader to form clear conceptions of the per- 
sonal characters of those of whom they speak. This is 
a characteristic of these writings, which admits of 
copious and striking illustrations, and which to my mind 
establishes their authority as true histories beyond all 
controversy. Their authors have related a number of inci- 
dents in the briefest and most sketchy manner, unaccom- 
panied by comments, and with no special regard to any 
sort of order, even to the order of time. So true is this that 
there is hardly anything more difficult to determine than 
the precise period occupied by the events which they re- 
late. And yet by means of these incidents, thus carelessly 
strung together, we come at distinct, harmonious ideas of 
the persons presented in the scene. In this respect, these 
narratives resemble those curious pictures that we some- 
times see, which at first view appear to be nothing more 
than representations of landscapes, composed of trees, 
rocks and ruins. But on closer inspection, we discover that 
the objects depicted are so grouped as to form complete 
and symmetrical figures, in attitudes of life, grace, and 



OF THE CONSISTENCY THEY PRESERVE. 91 

motion. And this effect is so successful that although not 
obvious, yet when once perceived, it can hardly by any 
effort be lost sight of. Only in the case of these histories, 
the several forms of moral life resulting from the inci- 
dents related are, let me repeat, produced wholly without 
design. The writers betray no sort of suspicion of what 
they were doing. 

That this harmony of character should have been the 
work of accident or cunning is entirely out of the ques- 
tion. Material objects, or the representations of material 
objects, may be so put together as to form momentary and 
chance resemblances of living forms and features. The 
fantastic combinations of the clouds of a summer sunset 
may present the rude appearance of a castle, a warrior, or 
some huge animal ; and this only for a little while. But 
those occurrences must have an existence in truth whose 
keeping is so natural as to create in the most natural 
manner in our minds individual and complete and perma- 
nent ideas of intellectual and moral life. From a mere 
disjointed collection of falsehoods and fables such a result 
never could flow. They might be circumstantially, but 
they never could be morally and intellectually consistent. 

Does it not constitute the chief miraculousness of the 
genius of Shakspeare, that adopting a form of composi- 
tion, the Dramatic, which allows little or no room for the 
direct and elaborate delineation of character, he has been 
able somewhat in the way now referred to, to construct 
spiritual forms consistent with themselves and standing 
out individually before us, through the words they are 



92 MARY AND MARTHA. 

made to speak, and the scenes, acts, and sufferings in which 
they are represented as concerned. But even in the case 
of Shakspeare's creations, the moral consistency which 
renders them so wonderful is wrought out, not indeed 
with any apparent labour on the part of the artist, but 
only by means of numerous and diversified illustrations. 
The characters, which his genius creates and inspires, 
are made to do and to bear and to say much in order to 
their full unfolding. Whereas, in the New Testament 
histories, character is developed, as we shall see, by the 
briefest word and the slightest incident, and if they are 
fictions, then as works of genius, they leave the produc- 
tions of Shakspeare as far behind as these excel all 
others. 

Without farther preliminary remark, I proceed to illus- 
trate my meaning by examples, the consideration of which 
will suggest appropriate reflections. 

There are two females, Mary and Martha, mentioned 
three or four times very briefly in the course of these 
narratives. Once, as we read, Jesus " went to a certain 
village, and a certain woman named Martha received him 
into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who 
also sat at Jesus' feet and heard his word. But Martha 
was cumbered with much serving, and came to him and 
said, « Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left 
me to serve alone, bid her therefore that she help me.' 
And Jesus answered, and said unto her, 'Martha, Martha, 
thou art careful and troubled about many things. But 
one thing is needful. And Mary hath chosen that good 



MARY AND MARTHA. 93 

part that shall not be taken away from her.' " Again 
these two sisters are mentioned more particularly in the 
account of the raising of Lazarus. They are introduced 
once more in the next chapter of John, where we are told 
that Mary came and poured very precious ointment upon 
Jesus, while he sat at meat. 

Now, there is no attempt to describe the distinctive 
qualities of these two individuals. They occupy only a 
small place in the scene. They appear before us but for 
a moment at a time, and they say and do but little. And 
yet they stand out with wonderful distinctness. Their 
images are not blended and intermixed. Their cha- 
racteristic features are unveiled in the most incidental 
manner — by a word; a breath lifts the veil, and their 
faces once seen are never to be confounded. 

From the first notice of them we gather that Martha 
was possessed of an active, matter-of-fact temperament, 
and that if not by age, by right of her peculiar character, 
she took the lead in household concerns. She set herself 
immediately at work to provide an ample entertainment 
for her beloved guest, and had so little sympathy with 
Mary, so imperfect an appreciation of the real greatness 
of Jesus, so little of the sensibility which was so promi- 
ment in her sister, that she complained of Mary, and in- 
voked the authority of Jesus, to obtain her sister's aid 
in her domestic labours. I pray the reader, now, to mark 
the beautiful correspondence of the other notices of the 
sisters with their characters thus incidentally developed. 



94 MARY AND MARTHA. 

When, upon the death of Lazarus, their brother, Jesus 
approached Bethany, the village where they dwelt, and 
the rumour of his coming preceded him, it was Martha 
that first heard it, and went forth to meet him. Mary 
sat still in the house. Martha, we may suppose, was 
engaged in the active concerns of the household. How 
naturally the report of the approach of Jesus came to her 
ears first ! Mary, with her greater tenderness of mind, 
was in a retired part of the house. The custom of the 
age and country allowed the afflicted to spend seven days 
in the indulgence of grief, and to receive visits of con- 
dolence. With the disposition of Mary this custom har- 
monized, and she naturally availed herself of it. On any 
other occasion — under any other circumstances, Mary, 
we may suppose, would have been the first to hasten to 
meet Jesus. As it was, Martha went first, because she 
first heard that he was coming. Mary went as soon as 
she was informed of his approach. If Mary had heard 
that Jesus was coming, before she learned it from Martha, 
then her friends from Jerusalem, who were with her, must 
have known it also, and they would have suspected 
whither she was going, and not have supposed that she 
was going to the grave to weep there. 

And then how characteristic the manner in which the 
sisters meet their venerated Friend. They both address- 
ed him in the same words, and the coincidence is very 
natural, because the thought which they expressed must 
have been continually uppermost in their minds. They 



MARY AND MARTHA. 93 

had perhaps said the same thing to each other and to 
themselves a thousand times. " If thou hadst been here, 
my brother had not died !"* But while Martha was able 
to enter into conversation with Jesus, unembarrassed by 
her feelings, Mary as soon as she saw him uttered a few 
words, and then fell at his feet in an agony of tears. 

When he directed the stone to be removed from the 
mouth of the sepulchre, observe it is Martha, and not 
Mary, who interferes, questioning the propriety of the di- 
rection, and betraying the coarse turn of her mind : 
" Lord ! by this time he is offensive, for he hath been 
dead four days !" Such a suggestion, we perceive, came 
naturally from her. Mary's reverence for Jesus was too 
profound to permit her to object to anything he might 
propose. While Martha, constitutionally incapable of as 
deep a feeling, presumed to speak as if he knew not what 
he was doing. 

We have only one mention more of Mary and Martha. 
Shortly after Lazarus had been raised from the dead, 
Jesus again visited Bethany. ' Martha served. But 
Mary brought a quantity of costly ointment and poured 
it upon his person.'! By this act, she simply intended to 
express her personal reverence for Jesus. How like her- 

*This coincidence is no slight evidence of the unsuspecting inte- 
grity of the narrator. If the story were fictitious, its author would 
scarcely have ventured, without some explanation, to put the same 
words into the mouths of the sisters, as it would certainly appear at 
first sight to want verisimilitude. 

t See Chap. X. 



96 MARY AND MARTHA. 

self is the attitude in which she is here represented ! 
Perfumes and ointments formed a part of the offices of 
hospitality. But the use of an ointment so precious was 
a mark of extraordinary respect, and showed how deeply 
Mary reverenced Jesus. 

Let the incidents just briefly specified be pondered 
well. Mark their exceeding brevity, and the accidental 
manner in which they are introduced. And yet how 
clear are the impressions we receive from them of the 
characters of the two sisters. Two or three — and as to 
any design on the part of the narrators, — random strokes, 
and the moral features of Martha and Mary are before us 
in all the freshness of nature. The outlines are complete, 
never running into each other, and formed not purposely, 
but by the combination of a few brief incidents. Let 
those believe who can, that the circumstances related 
from which we have this result, are matters of fiction and 
not of fact. 

It will help us to estimate the characteristic of the 
New Testament histories, which I am now illustrating, 
to glance at the works of imagination abounding at the 
present day, and observe how striking is the con- 
trast between them, and the writings under conside- 
ration, in this respect. There is no department of 
Literature in which human genius is so active and tri- 
umphant, as in the composition of fictitious narratives. 
Within a few years, through an alliance with history, an 
extraordinary revolution has been produced in this class 



MARY AND MARTHA. 97 

of writings. The novelist nowadays prepares himself 
for his work by the acquisition of an extensive and fami- 
liar acquaintance with the customs, the opinions, the 
whole condition of the period at which he lays the scene 
of his story, and is thus enabled to throw x over it an impos- 
ing air of truth. And yet, after all, how much pains do 
the most gifted, — does the great Northern Story-teller 
himself, take to impart to his readers distinct and consist- 
ent impressions of the characters in which he aims to 
awaken interest ! How continually are we made to feel 
that incidents are either fabricated or coloured in order 
to bring out character, or else, for the sake of the story, 
occurrences are introduced which violate the consistency 
of the characters portrayed. I am reminded in this con- 
nexion by the force of the contrast of the well-known ro- 
mance of ( the Pirate.' If so familiar an illustration may 
be allowed, we have only to observe the care which the 
novelist has taken to discriminate the characters of Min- 
na and Brenda, to perceive how immeasurably more 
striking is the brief scriptural representation of Mary and 
Martha. In the novel, everything is done to assist the 
conceptions of the reader by a minute personal descrip- 
tion of the two heroines, and they are thrown into circum- 
stances calculated to bring out their respective peculiari- 
ties in the most prominent manner. Whereas in those 
rapid sketches of the New Testament, the incidents which 
so consistently and admirably unfold the characters of 
Mary and Martha are told with the utmost brevity, and 
if for the sake of showing off any one, it is with a view 

9 



98 PETER. 

to the character of Christ. But natural even as such a 
design might be, it does not appear to have been enter- 
tained. The occurrences related, with all the light they 
throw upon the moral features'of the individuals concern- 
ed, seem to be mentioned for no reason but their simple 
truth. They had taken place. They were real and there- 
fore they were related. 

The character of Peter is developed in a similar way 
Not the shadow of an attempt to describe him is visible. 
But we cannot take up these narratives at any passage 
where he is mentioned, without recognising him as 
readily as we recognise the countenance of a familiar 
friend. 

For the sake of illustration, let me crave the attention 
of the reader, while I endeavour to revive an incident that 
occurred at the last Supper, mentioned in the thirteenth 
chapter of the Gospel of John. Let us for a moment 
leave the world in which we live, and go back some 
eighteen hundred years into the past, and enter Jerusalem, 
the capital of that nation, which, of all the nations of 
antiquity, was the only one that worshipped one God, 
using no similitudes — no idols. 

It is the season of the Passover, a great national festival 
celebrating the ancient providence of Heaven. The city 
is crowded with Jews from all parts of Judea, and from 
remote regions. Its numerous dwellings are now occu- 
pied by friendly and family parties, observing the appoint- 
ed ceremonies of the occasion, which consisted principally 
of a social entertainment, at which the mercies of God in 



PETER. 99 

times past were commemorated with appropriate forms. 
In a large upper room are assembled thirteen individuals 
from Galilee. Extraordinary circumstances, as their looks 
and tones indicate, have given a peculiar interest to the 
occasion. They have the air of men excited by strange 
events, and high but vague expectations. One among 
them is clearly shown to be their chief, by the deference 
which is paid him. They seem to regard him as a prince 
in disguise, a being of no common authority. He takes 
the principal place at the table, and as they also seat 
themselves, there is a struggle for precedence.* They 
are evidently jealous of one another; and a contention 
arises among them which shall be the first. They are 
inflamed by the prospect of the wealth and honours which 

* The strife at the last Supper is not mentioned by John. A 
notice of it is found in Luke. But even if there were no mention of 
it in any of the Gospels, we might infer that something of the kind 
took place from what is related. The words and actions of Jesus 
were almost always suggested by some passing incident. And I can- 
not but suppose that the striking lesson, which he gave his disciples 
when he washed their feet, was prompted by some evidence, afforded 
at the moment by their conduct, of their need of it. The nature of 
the contention, which, I suppose, arose among them, also appears to 
be indicated by the very form of instruction which their master 
adopted — the performance of a menial service for them. In taking 
their places at the table, a dispute probably arose, and jealous looks 
were exchanged. And to show them how entirely out of place such 
feelings were, he performed for them the lowest office at a social en- 
tertainment. This view of the case seems to reveal the propriety 
and significance of the symbolical act, by which Jesus sought to 
convey a moral impression. 



100 PETER. 

he, whom they acknowledge as their master, is, as they 
conceive, shortly to distribute among them, and the de- 
sire of these worldly advantages then, as always, awakens 
feelings of animosity and ill-will. With' these earthborn 
passions, however, the countenance of their Leader be- 
trays no sympathy. A sublime purpose — a singular and 
mysterious destiny has thrown over his whole appearance 
an expression of unearthly greatness. There in that face, 
in wonderful harmony, the melancholy cast by the sha- 
dows of Suffering and Death is blended with a peace 
kindled by light from an invisible source. In the midst 
of the strife of his followers, which evidently pains him 
deeply, for it seems to show that all he had yet said and 
done, and it was not a little, had been of no avail, — he 
quietly rises from the table, lays aside his principal gar- 
ments, takes a towel, pours water into a basin, and then 
kneels and begins to wash the feet of one of the company. 
Immediately the harsh sounds of discord are hushed. 
Silence reigns through the apartment. Every angry pas- 
sion dies away — every angry glance is lost in the looks 
of questioning and amazement which the disciples ex- 
change with one another. He goes from one to the other, 
washing their feet; and they, struck dumb with the awe 
which he habitually inspired, offer no resistance, until he 
comes to one who, unable to repress his feelings, shrinks 
back, exclaiming, "Lord! dost thou wash my feet?" 
The Master replies, " What I am doing thou dost not 
understand now, but thou shalt know shortly." " Thou 
shalt never wash my feet," rejoins his follower. " If I 



PETER. 101 

wash thee not," says Jesus, " thou hast no part with me." 
" Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my 
head !" cries the disciple, accompanying the words, no 
doubt, with a movement full of expression. 

The character of Jesus is not now our topic. Still I 
cannot avoid making a brief allusion to the agreement of 
this passage with all that we elsewhere learn of him. How 
perfectly in character the method by which he sought to 
teach his friends to defer to one another ! Since all that 
he had already said and done had failed to inspire them 
with a generous spirit, it would seem as if he adopted 
this method as a last resort, intending, we might almost 
think, to shock them by the attitude he assumed, the 
office he discharged, resolved to make an impression upon 
their minds never to be effaced. And then, too, how 
wisely and characteristically did he manage his resisting 
follower, melting him down with the words " if I wash 
thee not," i. e., if I do not cleanse thee, " thou hast no 
part with me." Thus he avoided an explanation of what 
he was about, until he had gone round and performed the 
same menial service for all, and so rendered the impres- 
sion as strong as possible. "If," the disciple exclaims, 
in effect, " if thou put it on that ground — if my place in 
thine heart be in question, then wash me all over." 

Who now requires to be informed that it was Peter 
with whom this short conversation took place ? His 
speech bewrayeth him. As in the Hall of the High Priest's 
house, his accent proved him to be a Galilean, so all that 
he says and does shows him to be Peter, and no other, 

9* 



102 PETER. 

We discover here the same individual who a little while 
after, when Jesus told his disciples they could not follow 
him then, (through the rugged and bloody path by which 
he was to be perfected,) protested, " Lord ! why cannot I 
follow thee now, I will lay down my life for thy sake," 
and yet, shortly after, upon a change of circumstances, 
denied all knowledge of Jesus. This is he — the very 
man — we know him at once — who can help recognising 
him 1 — that, upon another occasion, after Jesus had com- 
mended him for the explicit avowal of his faith, exclaiming, 
" Blessed art thou, Simon son of Jonas," and pronouncing 
him the rock upon which he would build his religion, was 
so emboldened by the praise, that when his master imme- 
diately afterwards was telling his disciples how he was 
about to suffer and die, had the forwardness to contradict 
and rebuke Jesus, saying, " Be it far from thee, Lord, this 
shall not be done unto thee," and so incurred a reproof as 
severe as the previous commendation was warm. This 
is the same individual who, yet at another time, when he 
saw his master coming on the water toward him and his 
fellow-disciples, who were in a vessel on the Lake of 
Galilee, cried out, " Bid me now come unto thee on the 
water," and when, at the bidding of Jesus he had left the 
ship, and the waves were rolling around him, was so 
overpowered with terror, that he exclaimed, "Lord! save 
me, or I perish !" In all these instances we see the same 
moral individual — the same self-confidence — the same 
sudden fluctuations of feeling. It is not putting the 
case too strongly to say, that if the name of Peter were 



PILATE. 103 

stricken out in all these passages, and, instead, we were 
merely told that one of the disciples said or did so and 
so, that one disciple would stand forth to our minds in 
bold and unmarred individuality. We could not mistake 
him. No one could suppose that the writer or writers of 
the New Testament had any intention — any thought of 
communicating to us an idea of Peter. And yet such an 
idea is received far more vividly than it could have been 
from the most minute and laboured description. No one 
has ever read the New Testament with any degree of 
attention without gathering from it an impression of 
Peter, distinct and peculiar. And yet, let it not be for- 
gotten, no care is taken by the historians to produce this 
impression. It is the direct but undesigned result of a 
simple record of a few simple facts. This is that divine 
harmony of nature, that truthful consistency which in- 
finitely outweighs, in my esteem, all the discrepancies of 
words and dates, and which the most transcendent genius 
may imitate, but never equal. 

The impression derived from the Gospels of the moral 
character of the Roman Procurator, Pontius Pilate, is 
wonderfully vivid and consistent ; especially when we 
consider how brief is his appearance in the Divine Drama. 
He had degenerated greatly from the old Roman noble- 
ness. Want of moral strength was his chief trait. This 
defect continually produces results as disastrous as those 
that flow from a determined malignity of purpose. Men of 
good feelings, but destitute of the guidance of a good prin- 
ciple, bring calamities upon themselves and others, as 



104 PILATE. 

heavy as if they were actuated by the basest motives, and 
had deliberately said unto evil, « Be thou our good !' Of 
the truth of this remark, Pilate affords an ever memorable 
instance. That such was his character is most evident 
from the Christian records. Almost every word attributed 
to him is in keeping with it. He appears to have been 
persuaded of the innocence of Jesus, but he had not cou- 
rage to resist the mob headed by the priests. And the 
miserable expedients to which he had recourse to throw 
off his inevitable responsibility, all betray the same imbe- 
cility. He first tried to get rid of the case altogether — to 
make the Jews settle it themselves. Failing in this, he 
caught at the mention of Galilee, and as soon as he was 
told that Jesus was a Galilean, he sent him to Herod who 
was then at Jerusalem, and within whose jurisdiction 
Galilee was. But Herod returned the prisoner upon his 
hands. As the next resort he attempted to persuade the 
populace to bestow their mercy upon Jesus, rather than 
Barabbas. I am aware that it was customary among the 
Romans to scourge those condemned to be crucified, just 
before execution. But from the different accounts we 
are led to infer that Pilate caused this part of the punish- 
ment to be inflicted on Jesus under the idea that it would 
appease the Jews. He brought the prisoner forth, bleed- 
ing under the recent tortures of the scourge, and called 
the attention of the mob to him, as if he hoped thereby to 
induce them to relent. Is not this precisely the course a 
weak man under such circumstances would adopt, as if 
by yielding he would not inflame and encourage the cruel 



PILATE. 105 

passions of the people instead of subduing them 1 When 
Jesus, seeing that words were of no avail, and that the 
magistrate had no strength to withstand the priests, pre- 
served a dignified silence, Pilate attempts to make him 
speak by reminding him of his power. " Speakest thou 
not unto me 1 knowest thou not that I have power to re- 
lease thee, and have power to crucify thee V 1 How pal- 
pable here is his cowardice in the idle vaunt of a power 
existing, as he must have known in his own soul, only in 
name ! He was awed too, as indeed a much stronger man 
might, and so weak a man must have been, by the look 
and bearing of the prisoner, connected with the rumour 
of his extraordinary career, which could not have failed 
to reach his ears; with the dream of his wife, whose 
imagination, no doubt, had been excited by reports of the 
words and works of the remarkable person arraigned be- 
fore her husband, and with the declaration of the priests 
that Jesus had called himself the Son of God. And then 
again, the symbolical act of washing his hands before all 
the people, to which the numbers and uproar of the mob 
compelled Pilate to have recourse, to signify that he had 
nothing to do with the death of Jesus, expressive though 
it was, was utterly vain. He could not throw off the re- 
sponsibility of his office as he dashed the water from his 
hands ; and only a weak-minded man could have found 
any satisfaction in such a device. When the Jews indi- 
rectly menace him with an accusation of a want of loyalty 
to the Roman Emperor, he is evidently alarmed and 
overborne. And he endeavours to conceal the effect of 



106 PILATE. 

the threat under a ridicule, which he dwells upon so 
long that we may well suspect it to be affected. " No 
man," Dr. Johnson has somewhere observed, " thinks 
much of that which he despises." Thus Pilate repeats 
the title of King in application to Jesus too often, to allow 
it to be believed that he really ridiculed and despised the 
charge which the Jews threatened to allege against him. 
" Behold your king !" he said to the Jews. And when 
they shouted, " Away with him, crucify him," he replies 
" Shall I crucify your king V* And the inscription which 
he caused to be affixed to the Cross in Hebrew, Latin, 
and Greek — " This is the King of the Jews," and which he 
refused to alter, was partly dictated we may suppose by 
this state of mind, and partly by the mean desire of ridi- 
culing the Jews ancf so revenging himself upon them for 
the painful fears they had awakened in his breast. That 
a suspicion of his loyalty should have made such an im- 
pression upon Pilate, cannot surprise us when we bring 
into view his subsequent fate, — banishment upon a charge 
of treason, — and the distrustful character of the reigning 
Emperor, Tiberius. With this prince, as Tacitus informs 
us, the charge of treason was the sum of all charges. 

In the instance of Pilate, as in the other cases mention- 
ed, how all-unconscious are the narrators of the consist- 
ency they have preserved ! They have thought only of 
giving a simple relation of the things they had seen and 
heard. And the keeping, discernible between the details 
of their histories, is the natural result and accompaniment 
of real facts, a portion of that harmony pervading all real 



JOHN THE PHARISEES. 107 

objects, all actual occurrences. In short, we behold here 
the presence of that Divinity that not only shapes our 
ends, but impresses and moulds all realities, abrupt, 
rough-hewn, and disjointed as they may at first seem. 

I cannot altogether omit a brief reference to the disciple 
John, as an example of that trait which we are now con- 
sidering. From all the Gospels we gather that he was 
one of the three favourite friends of Jesus. Not much is 
told of him, but he speaks of himself as the especial object 
of the Master's love. But he shows no consciousness of 
the evidence he gives in support of this character when 
he tells us that he sat next to Jesus at the last supper 
and leaned upon his bosom. How beautiful too is the 
correspondence between his intimacy with his venerated 
Friend, and the benign and spiritual tenor of his Epis- 
tles ! 

A similar consistency is maintained in the notices, not 
only of individuals, but also of whole classes of men. 
The Pharisees are represented as attaching the first im- 
portance to forms, to external rites, disregarding the 
moral requisitions of the Law, cherishing without restraint 
the most selfish and corrupt passions. Everything as- 
cribed to them, accords with this representation. At one 
time they are on the watch to see whether Jesus would 
perform a cure on the Sabbath. Zealous for the sacred- 
ness of that day, they had no hearts for a work of mercy. 
At another they pronounced him a Sabbath-breaker, be- 
cause on that day he had not only given sight to a man 



108 THE DISCIPLES OF JESUS. 

born blind, but had done it in disregard of that tradi- 
tion, which pronounced it a profanation of the Sabbath to 
use any medicaments on that day, even so much as to 
put saliva on the eyes. Again they deem it a serious 
charge against the disciples of Jesus that he did not re- 
quire them to observe frequent fasts, and that, regardless 
of the danger of uncleanness, they did not scrupulously 
wash their hands before eating. When they carried Jesus 
before the Roman magistrate, thirsting for his blood, 
the Pharisees refused to enter the Gentile Hall of judg- 
ment, lest they should contract ceremonial pollution and 
be unfitted for the observance of the Passover. . And once 
more, they could clamour for the blood of the innocent, 
but they could not endure that the bodies of the crucified 
should remain upon the crosses, exposed to public view, 
defiling the Sabbath and the Festival. All these things 
are related briefly and incidentally, without any effort to 
point out their agreement, nay, without any conscious- 
ness that this agreement is at all worthy of note. 

So also the words and feelings attributed to that little 
band, the personal followers of Jesus, harmonize wonder- 
fully, but most naturally with one another, with all that 
we know of human nature, and with the probable circum- 
stances of the case. They were evidently men possess- 
ing no small degree of ingenuousness. Their hearts 
were open to the spiritual power and beauty of the instruc- 
tions and character of Jesus. He impressed and won 
their affections. Still they shared in the universal expec- 



THE DISCIPLES OF JESUS. 109 

tation of the times. And while they venerated and loved 
him, they still clung to him with mixed motives, in part 
with worldly views and hopes. At quite an early period, 
upon being interrogated by him as to what they supposed 
him to be, they avowed through Peter, that they believed 
him to be the Messiah. To have come so early to such 
a conclusion manifested great openness of mind. It 
showed how much they had been impressed by the moral 
wisdom he had uttered, the deeds of mercy he had wrought. 
By these they were convinced, although he had neither 
declared himself to be the Messiah, nor had he done any- 
thing conformably to their idea of that expected Deliverer, 
nor did his external appearance present anything of the 
magnificence which they had identified with that illustrious 
personage. Still they did not relinquish the darling hope 
of a splendid kingdom. They are continually betraying 
the tenacity with which they cling to it. Once they ask- 
ed their master, " Who is the greatest in the kingdom of 
Heaven 1" — a general question apparently. But when we 
observe that a little while before they were quarrelling 
among themselves, who among them should be the first in 
the approaching empire, — when we consider the reply of 
Jesus, who beckoned a little child to him, and told them 
they could never so much as enter the heavenly kingdom 
(a moral kingdom) until they gave up all their preposses- 
sions and became as docile in his hands as that little 
child, — we perceive that although they couched their 
question in general terms, their object was to ascertain 
who among themselves was to be the chief officer 

10 



no 



THE DISCIPLES OF JESUS. 



under the new dispensation. Again, when Jesus declared 
that it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of a 
needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God, 
meaning obviously by this declaration, that it was next 
to impossible for one accustomed to the self-indulgence of 
wealth to descend voluntarily to the despised and perse- 
cuted condition of those who sought with him to effect a 
grand moral revolution, — the disciples were exceedingly 
astonished, and exclaimed, ' who then can be saved !' 
The salvation they were thinking of, was a political de- 
liverance, and they could not understand how there could 
be any salvation, any kingdom, if the rich were to have 
no part in it. Jesus perceiving that they were not yet 
able to bear a further disclosure of the true character of 
the approaching dominion, forbore to shock them any 
more, contenting himself with assuring them, that although 
it appeared to be impossible to them, for the heavenly king- 
dom to be established without rich men, yet it was very 
possible with God. Still they are uneasy, and Peter, no 
doubt expressing the wishes of his fellow disciples, and 
deeming it high time to come to an understanding, imme- 
diately asks, " And what shall we have therefore, we, 
who have left all and followed thee ?" So deep was their 
impression that he would establish an external kingdom, 
that after his death, they sorrowfully exclaim, " We had 
thought it had been he who was to redeem Israel." And 
just before his final disappearance their inquiry is, "Lord, 
wilt thou now restore the kingdom to Israel?" 



THE DISCIPLES OF JESUS. Ill 

With these coarse, worldly expectations, it is beautiful 
to see how there was growing up in their minds a deep 
sentiment of reverence and affection for Jesus, — a dispo- 
sition to defer to his authority before which their earthly 
hopes were destined slowly to recede, and, if never to 
be formally abandoned, yet to lose all vital influence. 
It was their hearts that were first touched, and that 
were gradually expanded, until the narrowing bands of 
their prejudices were broken. The evidence of their per- 
sonal attachment for Jesus is seen in the fidelity with 
which they adhered to him, despite the example of the 
great and powerful, and the continued inconsistency of 
his words and conduct with all they had so confidently 
expected. Once and again they were afraid to question 
him, so great was their awe of him. And their great re- 
spect for their master is incidentally shown at the Last 
Supper, as we once heard it finely remarked by a friend. 
When their master declared that one of them would be- 
tray him, they did not resent the accusation, but in the 
spirit of a touching self-distrust, which their experience 
of his better wisdom had taught them to cherish, the cry 
broke forth on every side, " Lord, is it I ?" " Is it 1 1" 
When one whom we deeply reverence charges us with 
an evil design, we suspect ourselves of it, rather than him 
of a wanton accusation. So was it with the personal 
friends of Jesus. 

But all this appears in the narratives in the most acci- 
dental manner possible. It may be said that it is all a 
matter of inference. I acknowledge freely that it is so. 



112 THE CHARACTER OP CHRIST. 

On this very account, because it is so plainly undesigned, 
it is affecting and decisive. That the Gospel histories 
admit of inferences so accordant with nature, so con- 
sistent one with another, is to my mind an irresistible 
sign of truth. It is to me a sign from heaven. To truth 
alone can such perfect harmony belong. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

For it is an immutable truth, that what comes from the heart, that 
alone goes to the heart : what proceeds from a divine impulse, that 
the godlike alone can awaken. — Coleridge. 

Op the unconscious consistency upon which I have re- 
marked, as one of the distinguishing features of the New 
Testament narratives, there is one illustration, in compa- 
rison with which the instances already mentioned, striking 
as they are, sink into insignificance. I allude to that 
great moral wonder, the character of Jesus Christ. The 
other characters brought into view in the Christian re- 
cords are, in their prominent traits, of no peculiar and un- 
common kind. They indeed stand out before us fully and 
individually, without any pains taken by the narrators to 



THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 113 

produce this effect. Still they may be severally assigned 
to classes, with which the daily intercourse of life and our 
common observation of human nature have rendered us 
familiar. Who has not often met with persons resem- 
bling Mary and Martha, Peter, John and Pilate in their 
principal features'? But the character of Jesus stands 
alone, without precedent or pattern. It constitutes a spe- 
cimen — a model by itself. The history of the world fur- 
nishes us with no other instances to be classed along 
with it. Here the loftiest and loveliest attributes of hu- 
manity meet in full developement in one individual. In 
his person, not only are conjoined in the profoundest 
harmony those remarkable qualities, which have been ex- 
hibited by different men at remote intervals, " every 
creature's best," but we discern new forms of virtue, 
a new manifestation of greatness. 

Although through the extravagant errors which have 
prevailed concerning the nature of Christ, his character 
has been but very partially apprehended, still it has gene- 
rally been felt to be the grand argument for Christianity. 
But it appears to me that the very remarkable manner in 
which it is bodied forth in the four Gospels has never ar- 
rested the attention which it deserves. For my own 
part, I am at a loss to say which is the most astonishing, 
the character itself, or the way in which it is exhibited by 
the historians of the life of Jesus. 

In him we have a new and original specimen of human 
nature. If he never had an existence — if he were a ficti- 
tious personage, it is evident that the writers of his life 
10* 



114 THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

had no model to go by. But while he is original, he is 
at the same time perfectly natural. He is an harmonious 
whole, a self-consistent individual. This is abundantly 
enough to satisfy me of his reality. For it is not for minds 
deluding or deluded, and one or the other we must sup- 
pose the New Testament authors to have been if we do 
not admit their truth, it is not for such minds, nor is it 
within the ability of any human mind to produce a new 
creation, — to make a new form of humanity, stamped all 
over with the truth and naturalness which characterize 
only the works of nature and of God. 

But this is not all. The crowning wonder still is the 
manner in which the character of Jesus is placed be- 
fore us. At once, in the highest degree, new and natu- 
ral, it is nowhere elaborately described in the four Gos- 
pels. There is not the slightest appearance of an attempt 
at minute description or analysis. That the writers felt 
most deeply the force of the character of Jesus, is not to 
be doubted. But, (and perhaps for this very reason, be- 
cause they felt it so deeply,) they do not endeavour to 
define its force, or to point out wherein its peculiar great- 
ness and beauty lay.* In the briefest and most rapid 

* " To analyze the characters of others, especially of those whom we 
love, is not a common or natural employment of men at any time. 
We are not anxious unerringly to understand the constitution of the 
minds of those who have soothed, who have cheered, who have sup- 
ported us ; with whom we have been long and daily pleased and de- 
lighted. The affections are their own justification. The Light of 
Love in our Hearts is a satisfactory evidence that there is a body of 



THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 115 

manner they have related a variety of occurrences in 
which he bore a conspicuous part. Their narrations 
show no traces of care or labour, no pains to put things 
together in a way to assist the reader to form, I say not 
a consistent idea of Jesus, but so much as any idea of 
him at all. They seem to be possessed with only one 
very plain and natural purpose — a simple relation of the 
things they had seen and heard, as they appeared to them. 
The reader may find a sufficient exemplification of these 
remarks, in the instances which I have already adduced 
in another connexion. Still one case occurs to me so 
strikingly in point that I must mention it here. 

Once, as we read, a young man, of a very winning ap- 
pearance, came and knelt before Jesus, saying, " Good 
master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life'?" He is 
rebuffed with the reply, " Why callest thou me good 1 
There is none good but one, God." Again, when a wo- 
man, with an amiable sensibility, broke forth in blessing 
the mother of Jesus, his language is, " Yea, rather bless- 
ed are they who hear the word of God, and keep it." 
Now these instances would seem to imply in Jesus an 
extreme sensitiveness to any disposition on the part of 
those around him, to magnify him personally. And yet, 
when Mary came and poured that costly ointment upon 
him, an act whereby she expressed the greatest personal 
reverence, he upheld the propriety of the apparent waste, 
and paid no respect to the very plausible suggestion — 

worth in the minds of our friends or kindred, whence that light has 
proceeded."— Wordsworth, Essay on Epitaphs. 



116 THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 

" Why was not this ointment sold, and given to the 
poor V* A consideration of the respective circumstances 
of the three occasions alluded to will satisfy us, that the 
language of Jesus on each occasion, was expressive of 
and consistent with a healthy sensibility of mind. We 
shall recur to these passages of his life more parti- 
cularly hereafter. In the meanwhile it is interesting to 
observe, that for all that appears in the letter of the 
narratives, there is a downright inconsistency. Looking 
only at what they expressly mention, we scarcely recog- 
nise the same individual in him who so willingly received 
the costly offering of Mary's reverence, and yet so 
promptly rejected the respectful address of the young- 
ruler, at one time, and at another, sought so instinctively 
to give a different direction to the sensibility of the female 
who poured out her benedictions upon his mother. Here 
is most impressive evidence, to my mind, that the writers 
of his history were wholly unconscious of any attempt to 
portray his moral features, or to communicate an indivi- 
dual idea of him. They are entirely occupied with the 
facts, the particulars that had been passed before their 
eyes, and they leave all conclusions and inferences to 
take care of themselves. 

Now this, I say, is the great and all-satisfying miracle 
— that from histories of this description we are able to 
form in our minds a distinct and consistent conception of 
an individual such as the world has never seen before 
nor since. If, indeed, instead of being what they are, the 
four Gospels were careful and laboured descriptions of 



THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 11? 

Jesus Christ, profound critical analyses of his moral traits, 
even in this case I should be at a loss to understand how 
so grand a moral idea could ever have been suggested to 
the human mind but by reality. In its reality I should find 
the most obvious and satisfactory cause of its existence. 
But as it is, it is immeasurably more surprising that from 
such books as those of the New Testament, for the most 
part the merest record of particulars, briefly told, we 
should come at a result so novel, so sublime, and yet so 
perfectly natural. Thinking only, as it appears, of re- 
lating what they had seen and heard, with such faculties 
and opportunities as Providence had granted them, the 
authors of these histories have unconsciously furnished 
Us with the means of forming an idea of individual cha- 
racter, the most harmonious, the most beautiful, and the 
most kindling, — an idea fitted to stir up our best senti- 
ments, to give life and power to our noblest springs of 
action, to transfigure, purify and elevate our whole 
nature, through the admiration and love it awakens, the 
imitation which it sets us upon attempting. Surely an 
idea full of this living and generous influence, possessing 
a power so practical and beneficent, so accordant with 
the highest principles of the human constitution, must be 
founded in reality. A mere human fiction, the offspring 
of ignorant delusion or narrow cunning, never could have 
such an effec|. Otherwise, all distinctions between the 
true and the false are broken down and obliterated. 

As I have already remarked, the character of Christ 
has as yet been very imperfectly understood. It would 



118 CHRIST AS A TEACHER. 

almost seem to require another Messiah to do justice to 
the first. It is not for this age, — far less for this feeble 
pen, adequately to portray his pure spiritual glory. That 
I approach this subject, therefore, with a diffidence almost 
amounting to despair, I pray the reader to believe. Happy 
shall I be, if to a single mind I can communicate one 
quickening impression, or impart one inspiring glimpse 
of him, in whom are hid untold treasures of life, and 
truth, and beauty. If on any occasion it is appropriate 
to invoke the inspiration of a higher power, — if my heart 
ever heaves with unuttered prayers for light and grace, — 
for the sanctifying influence of the Holy Spirit, it is when 
I approach this theme with a desire to depict its glories. 
What eye, dimmed by mortality, shall behold Jesus Christ 
as he is ! 

I proceed now to consider, at length, some of the 
prominent traits of the character of Christ, as they may 
incidentally be gathered from the facts which make up the 
body of the Christian histories. I shall anxiously endea- 
vour to make no assertion which these facts do not fairly 
justify. Our first topic is the character of Jesu.s as a 
Teacher. 

With respect to his style of teaching, there does indeed 
occur here and there in these narratives, a remark of a 
descriptive character. We are told, for instance, that the 
people were astonished at his teaching. " for he taught as 
one having authority, and not as the scribes," not as the 
common teachers of religion, and again, "that he employed 



CHRIST AS A TEACHER. 119 

parables." But these things are incidentally said. They 
are not stated as formal propositions to be anxiously 
illustrated and made out, but rather as conclusions forced 
upon the notice of the writers, so that they could not help 
stating them. 

The first thing remarkable about Jesus as a public 
teacher was his entire freedom as to times and places. 
On one occasion he was seated for the purpose of instruc- 
tion on the side of a mountain ; at another, in a vessel cast 
off a little way from the shore crowded with auditors. 
Again we find him discoursing among men of profligate 
lives and tax-gatherers, that odious class of persons ; and 
again, at the entertainments of the rich and honourable. 
There does not, however, appear to have been any affec- 
tation in this. For at the same time, he never scrupled 
to enter the synagogues, the consecrated places of instruc- 
tion, on the Sabbaths, the stated occasions of religious 
service, and to teach in accordance with the usual forms. 
He spoke freely and spontaneously wherever the oppor- 
tunity offered, either when in the open air and on the 
highway, or in the synagogue or the temple. By this 
simple and natural method, all that he uttered acquired a 
freshness and force of which the formal expositions of the 
regular teachers of the day were destitute. He confined 
himself to no set times nor places. He availed himself of 
no laboured modes of instruction. His teaching was ex- 
clusively oral, and this of the most informal character. 
He used no paper nor parchment. He committed not a 
word to writing. While he was thus original, he did not 



120 . CHRIST AS A TEACHER. 

affect originality. He never sought to magnify his own 
method of proceeding by denouncing any other. There 
is a uniform simplicity or unconsciousness in his bearing 
as a teacher ; his peculiarity in this respect is the absence 
of all peculiarity, the entire freedom from all technicali- 
ties. 

How striking the contrast between him and all other 
teachers ! Although he employed none of the usual means 
of extending his religion, how wide is the sphere through 
which his words have ranged ! " A poor uninstructed 
peasant," I use the eloquent language of another,* " by 
labouring for three years in the most despised corner of 
the most despised nation on earth, whose whole territory 
is but a speck on the map of the world, — laid the founda- 
tion of a work which was to survive the changes of em- 
pires, and the ruins of the philosophies and religions of 
man. And this, without seeming to make provision b) r 
any means adequate to such an effect. Other teachers 
have committed their wisdom to writing, lest, being en- 
trusted to words which are but breath, it should be dis- 
persed and lost. But Jesus confided in the divine energy 
of his doctrine ; and, with an unconcern truly sublime, 
cast it abroad to make its own way and perpetuate its 
own existence. Other instructers have elaborately 
wrought out their systems ; have sometimes clothed 
them in eloquence which seemed little less than inspira- 
tion, and promised perpetual continuance to their influ- 

* H. Ware, Jr. 



CHRIST AS A TEACHER. 121 

ence over men. Yet how small and short has that in- 
fluence proved ! How have their sects disappeared ! And 
by how very few are their works even read, though still 
accounted among the perfect productions of the human 
mind ! While Jesus, uninstructed in human philosophy, 
with no attainment in the elegant learning of the world, 
teaching but for three years, and putting not a syllable 
upon record — has yet made his instructions as familiar 
to the nations as their own native tongues — has bestowed 
on the humblest of his followers a wisdom superior to 
that of the Grecian masters themselves — nay, has affected 
the whole mass both of sentiment and character, through- 
out, as those great, laborious and long-lived men were 
able to affect only a few familiar friends within the privi- 
leged sphere of their own personal influence." 

Unfettered by any formalities, the Founder of Christian- 
ity was enabled to take powerful advantage of circum- 
stances. This constitutes another trait of his character 
as a teacher. While the professional teachers of the day 
were employed in commenting upon the traditions, and in 
nice and puerile distinctions, Jesus walked amidst the 
works of nature and the busy scenes of life; almost 
every object and every circumstance he arrested, and 
made them the messengers of his instructions. He be- 
came a voice to nature and Providence, or rather he 
made them the witnesses and symbols of the things which 
he uttered. It is true he frequently expressed himself in 
general terms, employing those universal forms of speech 

11 



122 CHRIST AS A TEACHER. 

by which abstract truths or principles are enunciated.* 
But, as I have already observed, this general mode of 
speaking is almost always suggested by deep feeling. It 
does not necessarily imply a state of mental abstraction. 
And I think if we carefully examine the passages, in which 
at first sight it appears as if Jesus were merely announc- 
ing general truths or principles, we may find reason to 
suspect that he was speaking on those occasions with 
profound emotion, awakened by some present and parti- 
cular incident. But however this may be, his utterances 
are obviously suggested and modified in most instances, 
by circumstances. Does he speak of the Providence of 
God 1 He points to the ravensf wheeling about in the 
depths of the sky, and to the lilies:}: growing in the fields 

* See Chap. V. pp. 70, 71. 

-j- In the exquisite lines of Bryant to the waterfowl, we have an 
amplification of a passage in the sermon on the mount. 

% The following Sonnet by Mrs. Hemans may be familiar to the 
reader, but I cannot deny myself the pleasure of enriching my pages 
with it. 

" Flowers ! when the Saviour's calm benignant eye 
Fell on your gentle beauty ; — when from you 
That heavenly lesson from all hearts he drew 
Eternal, universal, as the sky, — 
Then, in the bosom of your purity, 

A voice He set, as in a temple shrine, 
That life's quick travellers ne'er might pass you by 

Unwarned of that sweet oracle divine. 
And though too oft its low, celestial sound, 
By the harsh notes of work-day Care is drown'd, 



CHRIST AS A TEACHER. 123 

around him. Are little children brought to him'? He takes 
them in his arms and beholds in them a resemblance to 
the inhabitants of the spiritual world. Is he athirst 1 He 
is reminded of that living water of which if a man drink, 
he shall never thirst again. Blindness and death suggest 
spiritual blindness and spiritual death. Is he followed by 
an immense multitude? He finds in the circumstance an 
occasion of solemn and emphatic admonition, turning 
round and declaring that he who would indeed follow 
him, must be ready to take up his cross, and consider 
himself a doomed man. Is mention made to him of his 
mother and brethren ? His language instantly is, " who- 
soever doeth the will of my Father in Heaven, the same 
is my mother and sister and brother." Has he cast out an 
evil spirit 1 He is instinctively prompted to allude to the 
evil spirit of unbelief which possessed the hearts of many 
of those around him. But why should I specify instances? 
Read over the Gospels with this view, and you will find 
that the sentiments uttered by Jesus were continually 
suggested by passing occurrences. His discourses never 
seem to be formal, abstract, studied, but directly and 
strikingly the reverse. On so many occasions does this 
appear from what is explicitly related in the narratives, 
that even when there is no allusion made by the narra- 
tors to the particular circumstances under which he 

And the low steps of vain, unlistening Haste, 
Yet, the great ocean hath no tone of power 
Mightier to reach the soul, in thought's hush'd hour, 

Than yours, ye lilies! chosen thus and graced 1" 



124 CHRIST AS A TEACHER. 

spoke, we may fairly infer them from the forms in which 
his declarations are expressed. When he pronounced 
himself the light of the world, we may suppose that the 
thought was suggested by the rising of the sun ; and when 
he said " I am the true vine, and my Father is the hus- 
bandman," it may be conjectured that he was walking 
with his disciples in sight of the vineyards on his way to 
the garden to which he loved to resort. 

Let us pause over the probable circumstances of one 
very interesting passage of his life, as related in the 7th 
chapter of John, 

The Jews were celebrating one of their great national 
festivals, the Feast of Tabernacles as it was called. It 
lasted eight days and consisted of a series of the most 
imposing ceremonies. It was designed to commemorate 
the sojourn of the Israelites in the wilderness after their 
departure from Egypt. It received its name from the ta- 
bernacles or bowers which, formed of branches of trees, 
were erected by the people in the open air, and in which 
they ate and drank and spent a large portion of their 
time during the continuance of the festival. By these 
tabernacles, which filled the city, and must have pre- 
sented a most picturesque appearance, the people were 
reminded of that early age when their ancestors, flying 
from Egyptian oppression, erected similar dwellings in 
the wilderness. National enthusiasm and religious zeal 
brought the Jews from all parts of Judea and from distant 
countries, up to Jerusalem, to observe this stirring festi- 
val. At that celebration of the Feast of Tabernacles to 



CHRIST AT THE FEAST OF TABERNACLES. 125 

which we now have reference, the people were univer- 
sally excited by the expectation of the speedy appearance 
of a long-promised and heaven-sent Deliverer, who should 
emancipate his country from the Roman yoke, and raise 
it to the highest earthly grandeur. And, what was not a 
little startling, a strange individual had appeared, one 
Jesus, of the obscure town of -N'azareth. He had already 
produced a great sensation in Galilee and elsewhere by 
his astonishing works of power and mercy, and by the 
originality of his whole deportment. At the Feast he ap- 
peared publicly in the Temple, exciting the wonder of 
those who heard him by the boldness and authority with 
which he spake. The leading men of the nation, alarmed 
at the impression he was making, employed officers to 
seize his person. They returned to those by whom they 
were sent, the commission unexecuted. When asked 
why they had not brought him, they replied, " never man 
spake like this man." 

By connecting what we know of the ceremonies ob- 
served at this festival with this part of the history of Jesus, 
we shall perceive an impressive example of that charac- 
teristic of his teaching, upon which we are remarking — 
the promptness with which he seized upon occasions and 
made them speak for him and with him. On the last and 
great day of the feast, the same day on which the officers, 
sent to apprehend Jesus, are said to have made the above- 
mentioned confession, the services of the temple were pe- 
culiarly magnificent. Then all the people forsook their 
tabernacles, and crowded the courts of the sanctuary; 
11 * 



126 CHRIST AT THE FEAST OF TABERNACLES. 

The officiating priests were arranged in due form before 
the altar. A golden vessel of water from the spring of 
Siloam was brought, the bearer crying aloud, " with joy 
we draw water from the well of Salvation." The words 
were taken up and repeated by the assembled multitudes. 
The water was mingled with wine and poured upon the 
altar, amidst the shouts of the people. This was the 
ceremony of which it was commonly said among the 
Jews, " he who has not seen the joy of the drawing of 
water, has seen no joy."* Now we cannot help imagin- 
ing it was in some sort of connexion with this impressive 
ceremony, — probably in one of the pauses or intervals of 
the service, that, as we read, Jesus stood up and cried, " If 
any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink, and 
from within him shall flow rivers of living water." The 
stirring cry had just burst from all lips, " with joy we 
draw water from the wells of Salvation." The water of 
Siloam was pure and refreshing to the sense and hallowed 
to the mind of the multitude. But Jesus said, ' Come unto 
me and I will slake your thirst. A full, rich and peren- 
nial fountain of blessedness I will open in your hearts.' 
The circumstances of the occasion were so impressive 
that, as the narrative goes on to inform us, ' many of the 
people when they heard this saying, said, Of a truth this 
is the Prophet. Others said, This is the Christ' And 
then too it was, that the officers sent to take Jesus re- 

* Helon's Pilgrimage to Jerusalem, translated from the German 
of Fred. Strauss. Boston Ed. vol. ii. page 231. 



THE SECRET OF HIS ELOQUENCE. 127 

turned without him, saying, " Never man spake like this 
man." 

This characteristic of the teaching of Jesus, the con- 
stant advantage which he took of circumstances, lets us 
incidentally into the secret of his extraordinary power as 
a teacher. It shows that what he said, he said from his 
heart ; that the sentiments he uttered had first become 
his own sentiments, parts of himself, the irrepressible 
feelings of his own soul. He spake, because he believed, 
he knew, he felt with the whole undivided force of his 
spirit. He did not speak from hearsay, or because he 
was expected to speak, or with a view to effect. From 
no outward call of vanity or interest, did he express him- 
self. It was upon those rivers of living water of which 
he spake, and which were welling up in his own bosom, 
that his words floated forth and were poured with resist- 
less power into the souls of those who heard him. In 
short, his words were sincere and true, the direct and 
natural expression of truths identified with his inmost 
being, the deep springs of his own character and life. 

That this was the character of his eloquence is apparent, 
I conceive, from the unstudied, extemporaneous, occasional 
form of his instructions. When a man's heart is full of a 
particular subject, it is curious to observe how everything 
that happens, connects itself in his mind with the one en- 
grossing topic of his feelings. Everything is looked at in 
relation to that which chiefly interests him, and every 
event suggests reflections connected with his favourite 
pursuit How often do we discover the several professions 



128 THE SECRET OF HIS ELOQUENCE. 

of a number of individuals, from the manner in which 
they express themselves under particular circumstances ! 
Their modes of thought and speech will be affected by 
the subject which commands their principal attention, and 
holds the first place in their hearts. Thus, the seaman, 
the merchant, the mechanic, the lawyer and the physician 
may all be recognised by their respective ways of think- 
ing and speaking ; and in the same situation each will 
find something analogous to his daily pursuit, and think 
and express himself accordingly. Most fairly and naturally 
then may we infer the existence of a deep spiritual foun- 
tain in the nature of Jesus, from the fact that scarcely 
anything could occur in his presence, which he did not 
consider and represent in a spiritual light. How plainly 
does he show what it was that most deeply interested 
him ! 

I apprehend that in this respect he has never yet been 
understood. He so uniformly represented himself as 
speaking and acting by the express command of God, that 
he is too much regarded as a mere passive instrument, 
the mechanical agent of another and higher being. We 
are not aware of the strong personal interest which the 
whole style of his teaching undesignedly shows he must 
have cherished in his work. I believe the principal force 
of the Divine command was felt by him in the free and 
inner force of his own convictions. The voice of his own 
soul, clear and imperative — this it was that he reverenced 
as the commanding voice of his Father. This was to him 
the most intimate and solemn expression of the Divine 






THE POWER OF ELOQUENCE. 129 

authority. His words were continually modified and 
suggested by external circumstances. And what does 
this indicate but the fulness of his heart, the inexhaustible 
abundance of his spirit ? Must it not have been with him 
even as I have said, that he was full of spiritual life, and 
that when he spoke he spoke from within ? He could not 
have held his peace, and he needed no outward induce- 
ment to speak, but such as was offered at the moment. 
The vessel was filled to the brim, and every breath made 
it overflow, and like the precious ointment upon the head 
of the High-priest that ran down, down to the skirts of 
his garments, the costly streams from the full heart of 
• Jesus, fell upon the world cleansing and sanctifying. 

Here was the unequalled power of the words of Jesus. 
This it was that gave them a victorious influence. They 
were uttered simply and earnestly as the natural expression 
of thoughts and sentiments, which he himself cherished and 
felt far more deeply than it was in the power of any lan- 
guage to express. This is true Eloquence, — when a man 
speaks not for the sake of effect, not from any outward 
necessity, but from an impulse within which he cannot re- 
sist, — from the concentrated force of his own convictions. 
Then words are words no longer. They are acts. They 
exhibit and convey the life's life, that energy of human 
thought and feeling which is of eternity and of God. Of 
all the powers of nature, the power of a human spirit, 
thoroughly persuaded in itself, penetrated with faith, is the 
most vital and intense. When the force of such a spirit 
is bodied forth either by word or deed, it acts upon all 



130 THE POWER OF ELOQUENCE. 

surrounding spirits — on all other minds. A brief sentence, 
a single articulate sound of the voice, coming from the 
heart, or rather bringing the heart along with it, possesses 
a resistless power. It is like "the piercing of a sword," 
like "a winged thunderbolt," prostrating all opposition, 
inflaming all souls. Such are the sympathies between 
man and man. It was this that gave to Peter the Her- 
mit the power to arouse all Europe, nobles and their 
vassals, priests and kings, the rich and the poor, men, 
women and children, and lead them to the recovery of 
the Holy Land. The historian Gibbon sneers at his fana- 
ticism and confesses his power, observing that " the most 
perfect orator of Athens might have envied the success of 
his eloquence." Ignorant though he was, mean and con- 
temptible in appearance, still his words expressed the 
burning convictions of his own soul, and so he created 
the same convictions in other men. 

Seldom, alas ! have human words exerted this influence. 
The reason how obvious ! They have seldom shown 
themselves to be the inspiration of the living heart. They, 
who have enjoyed the opportunity and the privilege of 
teaching, have taught from self-interest or for reputation's 
sake, or to produce upon others an effect which has never 
been wrought upon themselves. They have been sworn 
to maintain and advocate certain established systems of 
religious opinion. They have consequently spoken, be- 
cause they were required to speak and must say some- 
thing, and take good care not to deviate from a track be- 
fore appointed. How widely opposite to all this, the spirit 



EVIDENCE FURNISHED BY THE STYLE OF JESUS. 131 

of a true teacher, of one in whom the truth lives and works 
as in Jesus of Nazareth, stimulating every power, inspir- 
ing every affection, commanding his whole being, and 
who therefore speaks because something within — the 
voice of the living God, commands and will not be 
disobeyed. He must utter himself even if he perish in 
the act. He neither thinks to please nor to offend, to 
conciliate nor to shock. His feeling is — Let me speak 
out my own heart or let me die ! He that hath the word 
of the Lord, hath it stamped upon his inmost being, sound- 
ing for ever through the secret chambers of the soul, let 
him speak that word faithfully. What is the chaff to the 
wheat 1 

The teaching of Jesus being so uniformly associated 
with the incidents in the midst of which he lived, we have 
in this circumstance an interesting ground for believing, 
that what he is recorded to have uttered was actually 
uttered by him. If the things ascribed to him were ficti- 
tious, made for him by the authors of the New Testament 
histories, — if these writers had put into his mouth things 
which he did not say, it is impossible they should have 
been so particular and occasional. They would have 
been more general and abstract; " We may conclude," 
says Dr. Jortin, one of the wisest theologians the 
Church of England has ever produced, " that the 
writers of the Gospels have given always the sub- 
stance, often the words of our Lord's sermons. They 
did not invent discourses and ascribe them to him, as 
Plato is supposed to have given his own thoughts to his 



132 THE PARTICULARITY OP THE GOSPELS. 

master Socrates, and as Greek and Latin historians never 
scrupled to do. If they had followed this method, they 
would probably have made for him discourses exhorting 
to virtue, and dissuading from vice, in general terms. It 
would not have entered their thoughts to have crowded 
together so many allusions to time and place, and to other 
little occurrences which nothing besides the presence of 
the object could suggest." * 

The peculiar style of the teaching of Jesus is interesting 
in another point of view. We cannot but be struck, upon 
the most cursory perusal of the four Gospels, with their 
particularity, — the frequent minuteness of their details. 
The question arises, if they are true histories, and were 
not written until years after the events related took 
place, and their authors did not take notes at the time and 
on the spot, and neither of these is pretended, how comes 
it that the writers recollected things so particularly 1 

This is a fair inquiry, and in order to arrive at the true 
answer we must first make due allowance for the peculiar 
style of the writers. Much of the particularity of detail 
apparent in these histories exists only in appearance — in 
the form of the narration. Authors unpractised in the 
art of composition, possessing only a limited vocabulary, 
naturally adopt a scenic or dramatic mode of relation. 
This is manifest in the works of all primitive writers and 
historians. I find in the ninety-fourth number of the 
Edinburgh Review, in an article entitled " History," (page 

* Discourses on the truth of the Christian Religion. 



THE PARTICULARITY OF THE GOSPELS. 133 

333, English edition,) the following remarks illustrative of 
the point under consideration. " The faults of Herodotus," 
says the reviewer, " are the faults of a simple and imagi- 
native mind. Children and servants are remarkably 
Herodotean in their style of narration. They tell every- 
thing dramatically. Their says hes and says shes are 
proverbial. Every person, who has had to settle their 
disputes, knows that, even when they have no intention 
to deceive, their reports of conversation always require 
to be carefully sifted. If an educated man were giving 
an account of the late change of administration, he would 
say — ' Lord Goderich resigned : and the King, in conse- 
quence, sent for the Duke of Wellington.' A porter tells 
the story as if he had been hid behind the curtains of 
the royal bed at Windsor: ' So Lord Goderich says, " I 
cannot manage this business ; I must go out." So the 
King says, — says he, " Well, then, I must send for the 
Duke of Wellington— that's all." ' This," adds the Re- 
viewer, " is in the very manner of the father of history." 
And this, we also may perceive, is in the very manner of 
the unpractised writers of the New Testament histories. 
They continually express themselves, not only as if they 
were ear-witnesses, when, from their own showing, it is 
manifest this could not have been the case, but also as if 
they were present in the very bosoms of those of whom 
they speak, and knew exactly the forms of language 
which their thoughts took, as they arose in their minds. 
Instances in point may be gathered upon every page of 
the Gospels. The forty-eighth verse of the twenty-sixth 

12 



134 THE PARTICULAR!! * OF THE GOSPELS 

chapter of Matthew, runs thus : " Now he that betrayed 
him gave them a sign, saying, ' Whomsoever I shall kiss, 
that same is he : hold him fast.' " The narrator is not 
to be supposed to give the precise words uttered by Judas. 
This is simply his way of relating the circumstance. A 
more cultivated writer would have stated it somewhat in 
this manner : " The traitor had agreed to point out the 
person they were to seize by kissing him." We read in 
the book of Acts, that after Paul had defended himself 
before Agrippa, " the king rose up, and Bernice, and they 
that sat with them. And when they were gone aside, 
they talked between themselves, saying, ' This man doeth 
nothing worthy of death or of bonds.' " Of course, the 
historian is not to be understood as if he had been pre- 
sent and heard what was said. This minuteness of 
narration belongs to an age and a writer comparatively 
primitive.* 

* I cannot help thinking that the above remarks throw light upon 
the following passage of the Gospel of Mark xiv. 12 — 16: "And 
the first day of unleavened bread, when they killed the passover, his 
disciples said unto him, 'Where wilt thou that we go and prepare, 
that thou mayest eat the passover V And he sendeth forth two of 
his disciples, and saith unto them, 'Go ye into the city, and there 
shall meet you a man bearing a pitcher of water ; follow him. And 
wheresoever he shall go in, say ye to the good man of the house, 
The Master saith, Where is the guest chamber where I shall eat the 
passover with my disciples? And he will show you a large upper 
room furnished and prepared : there make ready for us.' And his 
disciples went forth, and came into the city, and found as he had 
said unto them : and they made ready Ihc passover." At first sight 






ACCOUNTED FOR. 135 

These remarks, however, account for the particularity 
of the Gospel histories only in part. They do not cover 

there appears to be something supernatural in the knowledge which 
Jesus possessed of the man to whom he sent his two disciples, and of 
the circumstances under which they would meet him. But it is 
worthy of note that the parallel passage in Matthew produces no 
impression of this kind. "Now the first day of the feast of un- 
leavened bread, the disciples came to Jesus, saying unto him, ' Where 
wilt thou that we prepare for thee to eat the passover ?' And he said, 
1 Go into the city to such a man, and say unto him, The Master saith, 
My time is at hand ; I will keep the passover at thy house with my 
disciples.' And the disciples did as Jesus had appointed them ; and 
they made ready the passover." From this statement of Matthew, 
I infer that the miraculous air given to this portion of the history by 
Mark and Luke, exists only in appearance, and results from the 
mode of narration. There arc many probable particulars in the case, 
which the historians in their brief and peculiar mode of narration may 
have omitted, mentioning only the most prominent. Jesus may 
naturally enough have been acquainted with some well-disposed in- 
habitant of Jerusalem, who, he knew, w r as accustomed to send a ser- 
vant daily for water to one of the public wells or springs, Siloam, 
perhaps. There were numbers in the streets of the city constantly 
bearing water to and fro. So that we cannot but suppose, that the 
directions which Jesus gave to his two disciples, were more full and 
minute than they are represented. They were probably directed to 
a certain spot, where they may have waited we know not how long. 
But I cheerfully commend this passage of the history to the good 
sense and intelligence of the reader. Similar observations are ap- 
plicable to the passage where we are told that Jesus sent his disciples 
to procure the ass upon which he rode into Jerusalem. 

The remarks made in the text, appear to me to throw some light 
also upon the memorable passage in Genesis i. 26: " And God said, 



136 THE PARTICULARITY OF THE GOSPELS 

the whole difficulty. We are still at a loss to know how 
these writers came to recollect so many particulars. It 
is therefore to be considered further that, although it is 
not pretended that they wrote until years after the death 
of Jesus, still it is not to be supposed that the events 
which make up their narratives, had lain dormant in their 
minds in the interval. The things which they record, 
they had been relating orally for years. The contents of 
these books had in all probability constituted the burthen 

'Let us make man in our image,' " &c. Nobody imagines that God 
actually spoke. And it is equally clear, I conceive, that he did not 
consult any other being. According to the poetic and scenic style of 
the primitive period, when this account of the creation was written, 
God is described as speaking — as addressing directly the objects 
created. But when the writer comes to the creation of man, he 
shows his sense of man's dignity, and his superiority to the other 
works of God, by representing the Deity as first planning this his 
best work before he created it. To express this idea, God must be 
introduced as telling what he is about to do ; and if so, then such a 
form of speech must be adopted, as would imply the presence of some 
being or beings, to whom the plan of the Divine mind was communi- 
cated ; otherwise, all the effect of representing the Deity as speak- 
ing, might, to an imaginative mind, be lost. The idea of the 
dignity of human nature, thus poetically expressed in the Mosaic 
account of the creation, is also found in the writings of Seneca, and, 
it is curious to observe, with precisely that difference in the mode or 
style of expressing it, which we should expect between writers of 
such different degrees of cultivation. "Cogitat nos," says the philo- 
sopher, " ante Natura quam fecit !" — » Nature paused before she made 
us." See Le Clerc in V. T. 



ACCOUNTED FOR. 137 

of their preaching, the testimony whereby they created 
faith in the minds of their hearers. 

But it is in that trait of the teaching of Jesus upon which 
I have been remarking that I find a satisfactory explanation 
of the minuteness of detail which characterizes these 
writings. Had his discourses been abstract and general, 
we might well doubt whether they could have been so 
easily remembered. But as it was, his style of teaching 
was most admirably adapted to fix the sentiments and 
often the very words he uttered in the memory. It 
seems to me that if he had carefully and designedly 
taught upon a system of Mnemonics, he could not have 
stamped his words more effectually upon the minds of 
his hearers, beyond the possibility of being forgotten. 
We are all familiar with that curious law of the mind, the 
law of association. We all know how easy it is to pre- 
serve the remembrance of the merest trifles, if they only 
chance to be associated with some outward object or in- 
cident. When we travel a road after a long interval, its 
successive scenes, as they present themselves, will recall 
the most transient thoughts that were suggested, the most 
incidental remarks that were made, the last time we 
passed that way. We perceive that almost every sylla- 
ble of the declarations of Jesus, was uttered under cir- 
cumstances rendering it impossible that it should ever 
be forgotten. On one occasion, when attended by 
an immense multitude, he turned round while the peo- 
ple were crowding after him, and said, " If any man 
will be my disciple, let him take up his cross and 
12 * 



138 THE PARTICULARITY OF THE GOSPELS ACCOUNTED FOR. 

follow me." I doubt whether any who heard these 
words, fully understood their purport at the time. And 
yet when we consider the circumstances under which 
they were said, we see that they must have made a 
startling and ineffaceable impression. A crowd was fol- 
lowing Jesus, intensely excited by the hope that he would 
prove to be the Messiah — the glorious leader and king so 
long and ardently looked for. Taking advantage of this 
state of feeling, Jesus declared in substance, " If you 
would indeed follow me, you must take up your crosses, 
you must consider yourselves as condemned to death." 
Again turn to the account of the raising of Lazarus. 
When Jesus had cried aloud, " ' Lazarus, come forth,' 
he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with 
grave-clothes, and with a cloth about his face. And 
Jesus said, ' Loose him and let him go.' " At first view 
we cannot help feeling that there is an abrupt falling off 
here in the narrative, a sudden descent to a trifling par- 
ticular — to an observation apparently and comparatively 
insignificant. We instantly ask how came Jesus to give 
this trifling direction 1 Or, if he did give it, how happened 
the narrator to recollect it and to think it worth while to put 
it on record 1 These queries are silenced the instant we 
recur to the probable circumstances. Tf the dead man 
actually appeared, into what consternation must the by- 
standers have been thrown ! Some shrieked, some fainted, 
and all, transfixed and bereft of their composure, and doubt- 
ing whether they beheld an apparition or real flesh and 
blood, left Lazarus to struggle and stagger in the grave- 



THE SUBJECTS OF THE TEACHING OF JESUS. 139 

clothes in which he was wrapt ' hand and foot.' It is im- 
possible that any one present could have failed to be most 
deeply impressed with that sublime self-possession which 
Jesus alone preserved, and with which he quietly bade 
them go and loose the grave-clothes, and set Lazarus at 
liberty. That simple sentence — " And Jesus said, ' Loose 
him, and let him go,' " — thus considered, in connexion 
with the circumstances, how full is it of truth and na- 
ture ! To my mind, it furnishes evidence the most de- 
cisive, because entirely incidental, of the reality of the 
restoration of Lazarus. It is a slight circumstance in 
itself, but in its perfect naturalness there is an indelible 
stamp of truth. Ex pede Hercidern. 

So by numerous instances it might be shown, that 
oftentimes the slightest remark of Jesus must have sunk 
deeply into the minds of those around him, in association 
with the particular circumstances, and under the pressure 
of the peculiar occasions on which it was uttered. 

The remarks which I have made upon the character of 
Jesus as a teacher, have been confined to the form and 
style of his teaching. I have not touched upon his cha- 
racteristic views and doctrines. Nor shall I attempt a dis- 
cussion of them. To give a complete and discriminating 
account of the truths he taught, lies not within my ability. 
Under this head, I might deal easily and largely in general 
assertions, but a true and distinct portraiture of the moral 
and religious doctrines of Christ is quite another matter. 
To be well and wisely done, it would require, if I mistake 



140 THE SUBJECTS OF HIS TEACHING. 

not, a thorough appreciation of the various systems of re- 
ligion and philosophy by which Christianity was precedecU 
and of the true philosophy of mind and morals. Without 
a profound acquaintance with these, it is hardly possible 
to estimate the author of Christianity justly. We may 
think and speak extravagantly of him, and with a brief 
sentence, place him immeasurably above all other 
teachers. But it is another thing to think of him justly, 
and with discrimination. 

There is however one characteristic of his religion, as 
it was taught by himself, to which I would ask a mo- 
ment's attention. It is the entire absence of all that 
is vulgarly termed speculation — theory. Every senti- 
ment uttered by Jesus, admits of being understood 
as the expression of a fact — an eternal and essential 
truth. His religion, as a revelation, is a revelation of 
things true from all eternity. The great topics of his 
teaching were not the fancies, the creations of his own 
mind. They existed in the nature of things. When he 
declares, for instance, that ' unto him who hath shall be 
given, and from him who hath not shall be taken away, 
even that which he hath,' who does not see that this is 
only the assertion of a truth, wrought into our very na- 
ture and condition and corroborated by all our observa- 
tion of life. He who improves acquires more power ; he 
who does not improve loses the power which he origi- 
nally possessed. Again read over the beatitudes and 
you will find that they all express natural truths. "Hap- 
py are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Is not 



THE "SUBJECTS OF HIS TEACHING. 141 

inward purity the sense, the eye whereby we discern the 
Pure Spirit, the indwelling God of the Universe 1 " Happy 
are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." In the 
possession of a merciful temper, have we not a gift of Di- 
vine Love — a token of Divine mercy ! Even in that start- 
ling declaration ■ Whoso liveth and believeth in me, shall 
never die,' we have an indisputable fact. Is it not inevi- 
tably and unchangeably true, that death ceases to be 
death to him whose feelings and views accord with the 
spirit of this great Teacher] When he spoke of his com- 
ing in power and great glory, he asserted a glorious fact 
of which we are the witnesses. He is coming in the 
influence of his Religion, more gloriously, with a deeper 
and more searching power, than if he had appeared in 
person amidst the clouds of Heaven accompanied by an- 
gelic hosts. Examine his language on all occasions with 
this view, and you will be struck with its truth. We call 
the principles which he inculcated by his name, but not 
because he originated them, for they are older than the 
creation. But he did originate a new manifestation of 
them. He not only asserted them with an unprecedented 
clearness, he gave them a new and living force in his 
own being. He realized them in all their beauty and ful- 
ness in his life. In his doings and sufferings, the true 
sacred writing — the characters and symbols by which 
the Divine mind expresses itself, the great facts and prin- 
ciples of the moral world were revealed anew. If we 
cannot always discern the whole of the truths he uttered 
in nature and life, we can at least discover some intima- 



142 THE SUBJECTS OF HIS TEACHING. 

tions, some germs of them there. Affecting no peculia- 
rity of language, he freely expressed himself in the popu- 
lar religious phraseology of the day, but interpreted, as 
the language of every man should be, by the general tone 
of his life, we see that it was used by him metaphorically. 
Who, for instance, can for a moment suppose that when 
he talked of his kingdom and his glory, he had any idea 
of an outward kingdom, a visible glory, when his whole 
life shows so eloquently that it was the glory of an entire 
self-sacrifice, which won and inspired his whole soul. 
Recollect his sublime declaration to Pilate, " Yes, I am a 
king." How does he define his regal character ! ' For 
this end was I born,' he adds, ' and for this cause came I 
into the world to bear witness to the truth. Every true 
man is my subject.' How perfect his definition of real 
power- — of true greatness ! ' Let him who would be the 
greatest be the servant of all !' To the beautiful correct- 
ness of this definition, what evidence has been afforded 
in the history of the world ! Even the sublime doctrine of 
a future life, which is so frequently represented as a pecu- 
liar doctrine of Christianity, is nowhere formally asserted 
by Jesus. It is rather taken for granted — treated as if it 
were a plain and indisputable fact. And if theologians 
were not so anxious to exalt the Gospel at the expense 
of reason and nature, it might be perceived that the im- 
mortality of man, like all the other truths of the New 
Testament, is written in our very nature, and that in all 
his allusions to it, Jesus regarded it as a natural truth. 
So much now may I venture to say, that with respect 



CHRISTIANITY ETERNAL. 143 

to the substance as well as the style of his teaching, the 
author of Christianity affected nothing peculiar, and herein 
was his greatest peculiarity — his most original trait. He 
treated the truths he uttered as great and momentous 
truths ; as possessed of a value of which the world had 
not dreamed, of a profoundness which thought had not 
fathomed. He declared them with a new authority, and 
exemplified them as they have never been exemplified 
before nor since. But he did not appropriate them to 
himself. They were of the world, — of eternity and of 
God. 

Behold now the unutterable, everlasting glory — alas ! 
that I should be compelled to add, the as yet unsuspected 
glory of the humble peasant of Judea, that he taught fully 
by his lips and his life, what ! — the very truth which uni- 
versal Nature from all its heights and depths, and the infi- 
nite God teach ! I confess I see no disparagement to Christ 
in the fact that Christianity is as old as the Creation, for I 
believe that it is a great deal older — from eternity. " Be- 
fore the mountains were brought forth, or ever God had 
formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to 
everlasting is the truth taught by Christ." 

But why, it may be asked, why call the truths of Reli- 
gion by his name, if they were taught so long ago and by 
so many mighty teachers, if they were, long before he ap- 
peared, engraven upon the ancient tables of the human 
heart ! For a plain and emphatic reason. The life of 
Jesus of Nazareth, his words, acts and sufferings, being 
real, being facts, are a part of the grand and all-instructive 



144 THE GREATNESS OF CHRIST. 

system of Creation, — they constitute a page, nay, a 
chapter, and at once, the profoundest and the clearest 
chapter in the vast volume of God. Nowhere do I see 
spiritual and eternal things so clearly revealed, so touch- 
ingly expressed, as in his life. The truth which all else 
teaches is presented by him and in him with a new sig- 
nificance, an original beauty. Let it be that he taught 
nothing more than the religion of Nature, still by concen- 
trating all its force and loveliness in his individual being, 
by incorporating it with his life, and so teaching it as it 
had never been taught by any other, he made natural re- 
ligion, his religion, his truth. He has given a new illus- 
tration of it. Regard his life as only a part and portion 
of the great system of Nature, the grand chain of Provi- 
dence, — still I say that from no quarter of the grand 
whole come there such all-enlightening beams as from 
him. His history amidst all objects and events is by far 
the most luminous point. It is the grand Interpretation of 
Nature — the Revelation of her mysteries. There the truth 
shines forth with satisfying clearness. Therefore do I hold 
it to be true and right to call the truth he preached through 
his own being, his truth — Christian truth. When it is so 
denominated, it is not meant that he appropriated it to him- 
self. On the contrary, in the sense in which it is Ms, it is 
more effectually put within the reach of all men, and im- 
parted to all, and we are made to feel that it is natural and 
eternal truth. It may sound extravagantly, yet so per- 
fect is the manifestation of the spiritual power and beauty 
of truth in him, that if I presumed to say, but I do not — 



MIRACLES. 145 

if I presumed to say for what one purpose God made all 
that we see, and arranged the mighty and complicated 
course of events, I should say it was in order to provide 
a sphere for the manifestation of such a being as Jesus of 
Nazareth ; that he is the Masterpiece of the Divine Ar- 
tist, for the creation of which all else was ordained, — 
" the Heir of all things." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

MIRACLES. 

M The deep philosopher sees chains of causes and effects so wonder- 
fully and strangely linked together, that he is usually the last person 
to decide upon the impossibility of any two series of events being- 
independent of each other; and in science, so many natural miracles, 
as it were, have been brought to light, — such as the fall of stones 
from meteors in the atmosphere, the disarming a thunderbolt by a 
metallic point, the production of fire from ice by a metal white 
as silver, and referring certain laws of motion of the sea to the 
moon, — that the physical inquirer is seldom disposed to assert, confi- 
dently, on any abstruse subjects belonging to the order of natural 
things, and still less so on those relating to the more mysterious rela- 
tions of moral events and intellectual natures.' 1 ' 1 

Sir H. Davy. 

The next aspect under which we may contemplate the 
character of Christ is in relation to those extraordinary 

13 



146 MIRACLES. 

works of power and benevolence ascribed to him. It is 
interesting to see how they illustrate his moral elevation. 

As the difficulty which most minds find in admitting 
the reality of the Christian miracles arises not from the 
peculiar character of these miracles, but from the idea of 
a miracle of any kind, I propose first to state what I un- 
derstand by a miracle. 

The word ' miracle' is derived from the Latin word 
' miraculum? which signifies simply a wonder. Taking 
the term in this sense exclusively, no one is disposed to 
doubt the reality of an event, solely on the score of its 
wonderfulness, because in this sense there is nothing 
that is not miraculous. The existence of the merest atom, 
when we duly consider it, is an unspeakable miracle. 
The universe — all being — is miraculous. There is no pre- 
sumption therefore against the truth of any fact upon 
this ground. The presumption would seem to be in the 
opposite direction, for all things are wonders, all are 
miracles. 

But there is another idea that enters into the common 
understanding of a miracle, and hence arises the difficulty. 
Miracles are usually conceived of and represented as de- 
partures from the natural order of things, — interruptions, 
violations of the laws of Nature. They are so understood 
and designated by Dr. Channing in his Dudleian Lecture. 
And so regarded, they are defended in the following 
manner : 

" We are never to forget," says this eminent writer, 
"that God's adherence to the order of the universe is not 



MIRACLES. 147 

necessary and mechanical, but intelligent and voluntary. 
He adheres to it not for its own sake, or because it has 
a sacredness which compels him to respect it, but simply 
because it is most suited to accomplish purposes in which 
he is engaged. It is a means, and not an end ; and like 
all other means, must give way, when the end can best 
be promoted without it. It is the mark of a weak mind, 
to make an idol of order and method; to cling to estab- 
lished forms of business when they clog instead of advan- 
cing it. If, then, the great purposes of the Universe can 
best be accomplished by departing from its established 
laws, these laws will undoubtedly be suspended ; and 
though broken in the letter, they will be observed in their 
spirit, for the ends, for which they were first instituted, 
will be advanced by their violation. Now the question 
arises, for what purposes were Nature and its order ap- 
pointed ; and there is no presumption in saying that the 
highest of these is the improvement of intelligent beings. 
Mind (by which we mean both moral and intellectual 
powers) is God's first end. The great purpose for which 
an order of Nature is fixed, is plainly the formation of 
mind. In a creation without order, where events would 
follow without any regular succession, it is obvious that 
mind must be kept in perpetual infancy ; for in such a 
universe, there could be no reasoning from effects to 
causes, no induction to establish general truths, no adap- 
tation of means to ends ; that is, no science relating to 
God, no matter, no mind ; no action, no virtue. The 
great purpose of God, then, I repeat it, in establishing the 
order of Nature, is to form and advance the mind ; and 
if the case should occur in which the interests of the mind 
could best be advanced by departing from this order o) 
by miraculous agency, then the great purpose of thf 
creation, the great end of its laws and regularity would 



148 .MIRACLES. 

demand such departure ; and miracles, instead of warring 
against, would concur with nature. 

" Now we Christians maintain that such a case has ex- 
isted. We affirm that when Jesus Christ came into the 
world, nature had failed to communicate instructions to 
men, in which, as intelligent beings, they had the deepest 
concern, and on which the full developement of their 
highest faculties essentially depended ; and we affirm, 
that there was no prospect of relief from nature; so that 
an exigence had occurred in which additional communi- 
cations, supernatural lights, might rationally be expected 
from the Father of Spirits." 

Nothing can be stated with more clearness and sim- 
plicity than the views here given. But I am bold to con- 
fess, that in my humble opinion, they savour too much of 
false analogies. 

1. I cannot unhesitatingly assent to the sentiment that 
order is beautiful in the sight of God and man only as a 
means to an end. If it have not a certain intrinsic worth, 
can it have any vitality as a means 1 And again, is not 
our perception of the orderly structure of the human 
frame, for instance, antecedent to any knowledge of the 
fitness of its organization for the purposes of life? When 
we contemplate the regularity of the natural world, can 
we help feeling that the Creator delights in order and 
beauty, and that when, as the account of the creation 
says, He pronounced all things good, it was not merely 
for the uses they would serve as means, but also for a 
certain intrinsic goodness ? 

2. That the Divine methods might clog the Divine pur- 



MIRACLES. 149 

poses and require to be varied and changed, that exi- 
gencies might occur in the Divine works and ways, seem 
to me impossible and offensive suppositions. But much 
more offensive is it to hear it affirmed, in so many words, 
that Nature has failed to accomplish aught. 

3. I shrink, too, from the familiarity with the ways and 
purposes of the Infinite Mind implied in the foregoing 
statement. It may be admitted that there is no presump- 
tion in regarding the improvement of moral and intelli- 
gent beings as the chief care of the Deit}^. But then can 
we limit the existence of intelligent beings to this little 
corner of Creation ? Can we suppose that there are not 
multitudes of minds of a higher order, and at every dif- 
ferent degree of advancement, in other of the many man- 
sions of the universe, and that the order of Nature has 
reference to their education as well as to ours? At least, 
is it not presumptuous to decide that Nature has failed, 
because within a period, winch, though embracing some 
thousands of years, is still a limited period, a small por- 
tion of God's moral and intelligent family, a part of the 
race of man, has been wrapt in ignorance and error'? By 
precisely the same mode of reasoning by which Nature is 
affirmed to have failed, might we not maintain the insuf- 
ficiency of the Christian Revelation ? Christianity has 
been in the world hundreds of years, and thousands have 
come and gone, unblest by a single ray of its light. We 
see plainly enough that it would be unfair to draw any 
inference from this fact, unfavourable to the completeness 
of Christianity. For this Dispensation, we perceive, is 

13* 



150 MIRACLES. 

expansive and progressive, and is destined in the course 
of time to be spread over the whole world. In the mean- 
while, those who live and die without enjoying its light. 
are still, we believe, the subjects of a wise discipline and 
an infinite Providence ; and in another state they may in- 
directly enjoy the benefits of Christianity through the 
ministration of minds which Christianity has enlightened 
and sanctified. And why may we not suppose that it is 
exactly the same with the great order of Nature 1 How 
can we deny — I had almost said, how can we doubt — that 
the grand system of creation, even though it have exerted 
no direct influence upon the interests of mind in this our 
sphere, " in a few computed centuries and measured 
square miles," has been dispensing the most beneficent 
influences in other parts of the moral and intelligent 
household of Heaven, influences destined to act in one 
way or another in the progress of time upon this world, 
and of which, for anght we know, the Christian Dispen- 
sation itself may be, in the infinite interchanges of the 
universe, the fruit and the embodiment 1 Is it explicitly 
affirmed that a case has occurred in which the order of 
Nature has shown itself incapable of furnishing needed 
guidance 1 I am aware that a vast deal of erudition has 
been employed in support of this assertion. To establish 
it, the world before Christianity has been explored with 
immense labour. Still I say it is a mere matter of opinion. 
It has not been unquestionably proved that such is the 
fact. What if it were asserted, in direct contradiction to 
this opinion, that the order of Nature had done wonders 



MIRACLES. 151 

for the human mind before the appearance of Christianity, 
that it had prepared mankind for Christianity, that con- 
sidering its probable uses, ends, issues in other, higher 
and grander spheres and relations, it had at the same 
time had no slight influence in elevating the human race, 
and in disposing the human mind for the introduction of 
the Christian Religion. I grant these are mere assertions ; 
but putting out of view all evidence of one kind or an- 
other, may we not contend that they are fully as agree- 
able to our best conceptions of God and his Providence 
as the opposite affirmations? At all events, admitting that 
the world was in the deepest moral darkness, un visited 
by any spiritual light before the coming of Christ, I still 
prefer to regard Christianity not as in any sense inter- 
rupting the order of Nature, but as harmonizing with it, 
in all respects, in the letter as well as in the spirit. 

4. But these are subordinate considerations. The chief 
objection to the reasoning upon which I presume to re- 
mark, is, that it is based upon the merest assumption. It 
takes for granted, that the whole order of Nature is known 
to us, that the limits of our knowledge are commensurate 
with all the laws and modes of existence. Because, if it 
is not so, if our knowledge is not thus complete, how 
can we presume so much as to speak even of a violation 
of, or a departure from the order of Nature ? The truth 
is, and it would seem only necessary to hint at it, to bring 
it to mind with overpowering force, our knowledge, so far 
from possessing anything like completeness, is most im- 
perfect. We stand but on the borders of the tremendous. 



152 



MIRACLES. 



abyss of being. We have caught but a distant glimpse 
of its great author. " How faint the whisper we have 
heard of him !"* We see but a portion of Nature, and 
that portion, how superficially ! We need not mourn 
over our ignorance, for the acknowledgment of it is the 
beginning of all sound wisdom. If we were only sensi- 
ble of our ignorance, how should we be saved from that 
presumption which is the parent of countless errors !t 

* Job xxvi. 14. Noyes's Translation. 

t The following passage, in which Bishop Butler furnishes a gene- 
ral answer to objections against the goodness and wisdom of God's 
moral government, by reminding men of their ignorance, must have 
equal force in checking the haste with which we pronounce upon de- 
partures from the order or scheme of things. " In this great scheme 
of the natural world, individuals have various peculiar relations to 
other individuals of their own species. And whole species are, we 
find, variously related to other species upon this earth. Nor do we 
know how much farther these kinds of relations may extend. And, 
as there is not any action or natural event, which we are acquainted 
with, so single and unconnected as not to have a respect to some 
other actions and events, so possibly each of them, when it has not an 
immediate, may yet have a remote natural relation to other actions 
and events, much beyond the compass of this present world. * * 
As it is obvious that all events have future unknown consequences, so 
if we trace any as far as we can go, into what is connected with if, 
we shall find that if such event were not connected with somewhat 
farther in nature unknown to us, somewhat b:>th past and present, 
such event could not possibly have been at all. Xor can we give the 
whole account of any one thing whatever, of all its causes, ends, and 
necessary adjuncts; those adjuncts, I mean, without which it could 
not have been. By this most astonishing connexion, these reciprocal 



MIRACLES. 153 

With our very limited knowledge of Nature, how, I 
ask again, shall we pronounce an alleged fact a violation 
of its order ? Is it because it is referrible to no cause but 
a moral and intelligent Being, a super-physical Agency, 
a Supreme Will ? But to what else, pray, is any event, 
however common, to be ascribed, but an invisible, super- 
natural Power ! We are accustomed, it is true, to ascribe 
power to physical causes ; and because one phenomenon 
is always preceded by another of a certain description, to 
refer the former to the latter, as to its efficient cause. 
The sun shines, the rain descends, and the grass grows: 
and we conclude that the sun and the rain possess in 
themselves the power to cause the grass to grow. But 
there is no reason for this conclusion, except the fami- 
liarity of this sequence, which is no reason at all. For 

correspondencies and mutual relations, everything which we see in 
the course of Xaturc, is actually brought about. And things, seem- 
ingly the most insignificant imaginable, are perpetually observed to 
be necessary conditions to other thino-s of the greatest importance; 
so that any one thing whatever may, for aught we know to the con- 
trary, be a necessary condition to any other. The natural world then, 
and natural government of it, being such an incomprehensible scheme, 
so incomprehensible that a man must really, in the literal sense, 
know nothing at all, who is not sensible of his ignorance in it, this 
immediately suggests, and strongly shows the credibility that the 
moral government of it may be so too. Indeed, the natural and moral 
constitution and government of the world are so connected, as to make 
up together but one scheme; and it is highly probable that the first 
is formed and carried on merely in subserviency to the latter, as the 
vegetable world is for the animal, and organized bodies for minds." 
Butler's Analogy, Fart I. Chap. VII. 



154 MIRACLES. 

aught we perceive, the shining of the sun and the falling 
of the rain might have been followed by directly opposite 
consequences. All that we perceive, and all that we can 
affirm, so far as our perceptions go, is, that one event is 
invariably followed by another of a certain description. 
It is now conceded by eminent philosophical writers, that in 
what are commonly termed physical causes we perceive no 
inherent power to produce the effects by which they are 
followed. Hence has arisen the adoption of the terms 
antecedent and consequent, as more strictly philosophical 
than cause and effect, as applicable to physical phenomena. 
" The material world is often conceived of as a vast ma- 
chine, constructed by the Deity with certain powers, and 
obeying certain laws by which he at the beginning direct- 
ed its operations ; but left by him, as it were, after its 
creation to produce such effects as would follow from the 
natural operation of those powers and laws. But of mat- 
ter we know nothing, except as a collection of certain 
powers, existing without us, in a certain part of space. 
I perceive what is called a portion of matter ; that is, my 
senses are affected by a power, which produces a percep- 
tion of colour, another power, co-existent with the former, 
which produces the perception of a certain form, another, 
which gives the perception of resistance, and so on. This 
is the whole. I have evidence for nothing but the exist- 
ence of such powers. I receive fully the testimony of my 
senses as far as it goes ; and they give testimony to no- 
thing more than the existence of certain powers without 
them, capable of affecting them in certain ways. To 



MIRACLES. 155 

these powers, coexisting as they do, together, I give the 
name of matter. But why should we not refer the powers 
themselves immediately to the Deity, rather than to some 
unknown being or substance, denoted by this name, mat- 
ter, of which it is wholly impossible to form a concep- 
tion ; our conception being solely of the powers them- 
selves, or, as they are commonly called, attributes. If 
we do thus refer them to the Deity, we shall regard mat- 
ter and its phenomena, as nothing but a manifestation of 
his power in various modes and acts."* 

" The falseness of the analogy," says Dugald Stewart, 
alluding to the opinion of those who conceive that the 
universe is a machine formed and put in motion by the 
Deity, " appears from this, that the moving force in every 
machine is some natural power, such as gravity and elas- 
ticity ; and, therefore, the very idea of mechanism pre- 
supposes the existence of those active powers of which 
it is the professed object of a mechanical theory of the 
universe to give an explanation." (Active and Moral 
Powers, vol. 1. Note D.) How long oftentimes is the 
interval between the rejection of an error and the full ad- 
mission of the opposite truth ! We reject the mechanical 
theory of the universe : but how does it continue to vi- 
tiate our reasonings and deaden our sensibilities ! The 
universe is not a machine, many are ready to admit, but 
then they turn away as if this were the end, when it is 
but the beginning of the whole matter. If the creation is 

* Christian Disciple. New Series. Art. Prayer, vol. 3. p. 405. 



156 MIRACLES. 

not a machine, what then is it ? What do we see, when 
we look upon the objects and changes around us ! No- 
thing, so the reply is commonly expressed, nothing but 
Mind — nothing but the agency of God. Nothing but the 
agency of God ! In the name of Heaven, what would 
we have more to stir up the deepest springs of curiosity, 
wonder and awe, and make us feel that a new world of 
thought is opened before us ! It must put all things in 
new lights. The familiar must become novel, the novel, 
familiar. Natural facts become supernatural, and miracles 
become natural, when all are regarded as manifestations 
of an Invisible Mind, an Infinite Will.* 

Or, again, do we pronounce a fact a miracle, using the 
word in the sense to which I object, on the ground of its 

* " To find no contradiction in the union of old and new, to con- 
template the Ancient of Days with feelings as fresh as if they then 
sprung forth at his own fiat, this characterizes the minds that feci the 
riddle of the world, and may help to unravel it! To carry on the 
feelings of childhood into the powers of manhood, to combine the 
child's sense of wonder and novelty, with the appearances which 
every day, for perhaps forty years, had rendered familiar, 

With Sun, and Moon, and Stars, throughout the year, 
And Man and Woman 

this is the character and privilege of genius. * * And so to pre- 
sent familiar objects, as to awaken the minds of others to a like 
freshness of sensation concerning them, ((hat constant accompaniment 
of mental, no less than bodily convalescence,) — this is the prime merit 
of genius, and its most unequivocal mode of manifestation." 

Coleridge. 



MIRACLES. 1 57 

wonderfulness 1 Do we, for instance, conclude the resur- 
rection of a dead man to life, a violation of natural laws, 
because it is so astonishing 1 Upon this ground the whole 
order of Nature is at once annihilated, for all things are 
wonderful. In strict truth, the restoration of a dead man 
to life is not in the least more wonderful than the birth of 
a human being. And if both events were now witnessed 
for the first time, they would alike appear unutterably 
strange, and we should be just as little or just as much 
disposed to refer the one as the other to a natural order 
of things. 

Or, once more, do we decide a fact to be a violation of 
the order of nature because it is altogether new and un- 
precedented 1 This cannot be done, as I have already 
said, without assuming that the boundaries of human expe- 
rience are coextensive with the order of nature, — in other 
words, that all the modes of the Divine Power are known 
to us, — an assumption too extravagant to be consciously 
entertained for an instant. Upcn this principle, every 
new fact or phenomenon in the physical world ought 
to be set down as an interruption of the laws of 
Nature. It is found, for instance, to be a natural law, 
that all bodies are diminished in bulk by the with- 
drawal of heat. But to this law water presents a 
remarkable exception. Within certain degrees of dimi- 
nished temperature, it increases in bulk. This curious 
fact is usually represented as anomalous. But it is not 
meant that it is the violation of a known law, but that 
it is the result of an unknown law. It is not supposed 

14 



158 THE MIRACLES OF JESUS, NEITHER 

to interrupt, but to disclose the order of nature. And yet 
it certainly is an interruption of natural laws, if the order 
of our experience is synonymous with the order of nature. 
Upon this supposition too, if a body were now discovered 
in the depths of space, if its direction and size were as- 
certained, and it were found that it would in its course 
inevitably throw the whole solar system into the greatest 
confusion, it ought to be regarded as menacing the inte- 
grity of Nature. As well might the surge that dashes the 
canoe in fragments upon the rocks be so considered. 
True Science would not reason thus. It would find no 
faint consolation, under the awful prospect, in the sublime 
persuasion that a new development of the harmony of 
nature was at hand. In truth, it is now an established 
and indispensable principle in all inquiries into the 
physical world, to regard every new fact, when once fully 
attested, not as an interruption of natural laws, but as 
pointing to some law before unknown. It may infringe 
and throw into confusion all the little theories of man 
concerning the order of the Universe, rendering them 
altogether worthless. But it comes to reveal that order 
more clearly, to assist the human mind to approach 
nearer to the grand harmony of Nature. 

Let us look now at the extraordinary facts related in 
the New Testament. At the word or the touch of Jesus, 
diseases vanished, the lame walked, the blind received 
sight, and the dead were raised. Such, for the most part, 
are the wonderful works ascribed to him. When these 
facts are considered, under all the circumstances under 



DEPARTURES FROM NATURE NOR IMPOSSIBILITIES. 159 

which they are represented to have taken place, no man 
can affirm that they lie beyond the boundaries of possi- 
bility. They fall not, it is true, within the limits of our 
experience ; but it cannot be maintained that they are 
impossible in the nature of things, because the nature of 
the things concerned is but very partially known. For 
the same reason, they cannot be pronounced interruptions 
of the laws of nature. Before we pronounce the resur- 
rection of a dead man to life, startling as it may be, an 
absolute impossibility, or a departure from natural laws, 
we ought to know what life* is, and death ; what the ex- 
tent of the change to which we give this name, what 
are the relations between the body and the central prin- 
ciple of animation, the mind or soul, and how these rela- 
tions are affected by what we call death. We are apt to 
fancy, that we know a great deal about these things. 
How very little do we absolutely know ! We talk with a 
confidence, as groundless as it is unconscious, about the 

* " A savage, who saw the operation of a number of power-looms, 
weaving stockings, cease at once on the stopping of a wheel, might 
well imagine that the motive force was in the wheel ; he could not 
know that it more immediately depended upon the steam, and ulti- 
mately upon a fire below a concealed boiler. The philosopher sees 
the fire which is the cause of the motion of this complicated ma- 
chinery, so unintelligible to the savage ; but both are equally ignorant 
of the Divine fire which is the cause of the mechanism of organised 
structures." — {Sir H. Davy.) — Surely then, in the name of all philoso- 
phy, we should take care how we talk of impossibilities on the one 
hand, or violations of the laws of Nature on the other, in cases where 
life and its functions and phenomena are concerned. 



160 WE KNOW NOT THE LIMITS 

spirit's forsaking the body with the last breath, or of its 
slumbering in the dust for ages. But these are the merest 
human suppositions. Every one who admits the autho- 
rity of Christianity, and knows how to separate its sub- 
stance from its forms, must be perfectly aware that our 
religion establishes nothing respecting death, save that it 
is not the extinction of our being. How it affects the 
mode of our existence is a matter, upon which the consti- 
tution of our spiritual nature and the analogies of crea- 
tion may throw more or less light, but we have no direct 
information. We cannot tell the precise moment at which 
the connexion of our being with its material frame is 
dissolved, and the influence of each over the other is irre- 
vocably terminated. " The natural world," observes Dr. 
Channing, in the Lecture from which I have quoted, 
" contains no provisions or arrangements for reviving the 
dead. The sun and the rain, which cover the tomb with 
verdure, send no vital influence to the mouldering body. 
The researches of science detect no secret processes for 
restoring the lost powers of life." If, as the language 
implies, by the natural world is meant only the physical 
world, these assertions may be admitted. But the physi- 
cal world is but a very small, and an inferior part of the 
actually existing and present world of nature. But if in 
the natural world here mentioned, is meant to be included 
the moral and intellectual, or spiritual system, which exists 
in mysterious union and intimate fellowship with the ma- 
terial creation, then I beg leave to say that these declara- 
tions are made without authority. For who has yet ex- 



OF MORAL OR MENTAL FORCE. 161 

plored the spiritual world ! Who hath scanned the laws 
of mind ! Who hath weighed its mighty forces as in a 
balance 1 Who, for instance, will venture to set limits to 
the power of a mind of transcendent greatness, like that 
which was manifested in the humble form of the Man of 
Nazareth 1 These questions are not put blindly and at 
random. All will acknowledge — my respected friend, 
from whose views I presume to dissent, would be among 
the very last to deny — the existence and vastness of moral 
power. Is it not from the moral world that those demon- 
strations issue which create in us the deepest, divinest 
sentiment of power 1 Does not all other force fade into a 
vision in comparison with moral force ] Does not every 
thing intimate more or less directly to our minds, that 
the central and sustaining energy of the Universe is of a 
spiritual nature ; that He whom we call God, is God, Al- 
mighty and Everlasting, because He is a Spirit — a per- 
fect mind, — and in his spiritual essence, in his Rectitude, 
Love, and Wisdom is the hiding of his Power 1 I say 
again, then, that we are not at liberty to pronounce the 
restoration of a dead man to life, a natural impossibility, 
or a violation of nature, until we know what death is, and 
life ; what the influence of the mind upon the body, and 
when that influence ceases, and, more than all, what are 
the limits of the power with which God may possess 
a mind of unequalled purity, wisdom and exaltation, 
like the mind of Jesus Christ, without any violation 
of the laws of its being. A phenomenon, the elements 
whereof are but so imperfectly known, purporting to 
14* 



162 WHAT MANNER OF MAN IS THIS, 

take place through the agency of such a being as the 
man of Nazareth, is not to be regarded as essentially in- 
credible on the one hand, nor as an interruption of the 
laws of Nature on the other, without — so I venture to 
conclude — a manifest disregard of the soundest principles 
of thought. 

1 Such a being as the Man of Nazareth ! But what 
sort of a being was he V is a question that will be 
asked. I admit, the exclamation of his disciples may 
well be repeated, " What mariner of man is this, that even 
the winds and the sea obey him !" There are a great 
many kinds of men. There is an immense variety of 
human spirits. As one star differs from another star in 
glory, so does man differ from man. What different and 
amazing powers have been exhibited in different indivi- 
duals ! What an unconscious intuition into the mysteries 
of numbers in one, and into the workings of the human 
heart in another ! But Jesus Christ was such a man as 
has never existed before nor since. I grant this freely, 
fully. I can form no idea of an angelic existence, that 
transcends my conception of the moral elevation of his 
nature. I concede, also, with equal readiness, that there 
was nothing in the circumstances of the times at all ade- 
quate to the production of such a being. Then, it will be 
said, here was a miracle. It is a miracle — a mighty 
miracle ; and I use this term not merely in the sense of a 
wonder, but as expressing a fact referrible to no law, de- 
pending upon no condition, save the pure Free- Will, the 
immediate Volition of the Everlasting Father. However 
common it may be to think otherwise, however plausible 



WHOM EVEN THE WINDS AND THE SEA OBEY I 163 

the appearances to the contrary, I do not believe that 
mind (understanding thereby moral and intellectual 
power,) is ever altogether the result of education, or the 
offspring of circumstances. These may modify its mani- 
festations, but still, even in its humblest degrees it must 
be accounted as a free gift, a direct inspiration of God. 
I believe that there is a spirit in man which is not manu- 
factured by mechanism, but begotten of the Father of 
Spirits. And I know not the laws or the conditions 
which limit the manifestation of this Spirit in the Flesh, 
or the intercourse it may hold with God. In plain 
terms, I know not how exalted a spirit the Almighty may 
send into the world in the person of a man, nor what de- 
grees of spiritual light and power He may directly commu- 
nicate to such a being when once ushered into existence. 
I dare not limit the power of God in these respects. Certain 
it is, that the diversity of minds — of spiritual natures — is 
endless. And every man, who solemnly consults his own 
experience, will confess that he has at times had thoughts 
and impressions — a clearness of vision, or a force of will, 
which seemed not to be his own, and which he could re- 
gard only as the immediate gift, the direct influence and 
inspiration of the Spirit of God. " The wind bloweth 
where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but 
canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth : so 
is every one that is born of the Spirit" — every spiritual 
nature, every spiritual thought. I say, therefore, that I 
cannot see the suspension of any law — the reversal of 
any mode of the Divine Agency, in the appearance in the 



164 JESU9 CHRIST, SPECIALLY INSPIRED. 

world of such a being as the author of Christianity ; one, 
who, by the native force of his own God-created Spirit, 
or, if you please, by immediate communications of 
spiritual force, was able, by new demonstrations of power, 
to disclose the essential, natural sovereignty of mind over 
matter, of the spiritual over the physical. Rather does 
the whole course of things — the fact that the Almighty, 
in his free and unutterable goodness, hath, from time to 
time, raised up patriarchs, prophets, martyrs, glorious for 
the wisdom and power with which they were charged, — 
dispose us to believe in so grand a model of humanity as 
is presented in Jesus of Nazareth. But when such a 
being has appeared, as we know not the limits of the 
nature which God has given him, we misapprehend him 
very seriously, I conceive, when we represent the effects 
he produced as wrought by another, extraneous, inter- 
posing exercise of power reversing its own methods, 
instead of regarding them as illustrating the vital force of 
his own spirit, and of all spirits. Do I derogate from 
God in so conceiving of him 1 Oh, no ! How is the 
Creator revealed in so Divine a Man, the Father glori- 
fied in so Godlike a Son !* 

* It will be said, that if Jesus was so rarely endowed, he can be 
no example to us. To this I reply by quoting that noble passage in 
Dr. Channing's Seventh Discourse, which no one who has read it 
will forget, and the whole of which, did my limits permit, I would 
gladly transcribe. "You tell me, my hearers, that Jesus Christ is so 
high, that he cannot be your model. I grant the exaltation of his 
character. I believe him to be more than a human being. In 



165 

If what has now been urged be sound, then the first 
step with regard to the remarkable facts recorded in the 

truth, all Christians so believe him. Those, who suppose him not 
to have existed before his birth, do not regard him as a mere man, 
though so reproached. They always separate him by broad distinc- 
tions from other men. They consider him as enjoying a communion 
with God, and as having received gifts, endowments, aids, lights, from 
Him, granted to no other, and as having exhibited a spotless purity, 
which is the highest distinction of Heaven. All admit, and joyfulby 
admit, that Jesus Christ, by his greatness and goodness, throws all 
other human attainments into obscurity. But on this account he is 
not less a standard, nor is he to discourage us, but, on the contrary, 
to breathe into us a more exhilarating hope; for though so far above 
us, he is still one of us, and is only an illustration of the capacities 
which we all possess. This is a great truth. Let me strive to un- 
fold it. Perhaps I cannot better express my views, than by saying 
that I regard all minds as of one family. When we speak of higher 
orders of beings, of angels and archangels, we are apt to conceive of 
distinct kinds or races of beings, separated from us and each other 
by impassable barriers. But it is not so. All minds are of one 
family. There is no such partition in the spiritual world as you see 
in the material. In material nature you sec wholly distinct classes 
of beings. A mineral is not a vegetable, and makes no approach to 
it ; these two great kingdoms of nature are divided by immeasurable 
spaces. So, when we look at different races of animals, though all 
partake of that mysterious property, life, yet, what an immense and 
impassable distance is there between the insect and the lion. They 
have no bond of union, no possibility of communication. During the 
lapse of ages, the animalcules which sport in the sun-beams a sum- 
mer's day, and then perish, have made no approximation to the king 
of the forests. But in the intellectual world there are no such bar- 
riers. All minds are essentially of one origin, one nature, kindled 



166 THE MIRACLES OF JESUS, 

New Testament histories is, to determine whether they 
actually took place. Were the sick healed, the blind 
blest with sight, and the dead raised at the word or touch 
of Jesus Christ 3 As these things are new and unprece- 
dented, peculiar evidence may reasonably be required. 

from one divine flame, and are all tending to one centre, one happi- 
ness. This great truth, to us the greatest of truths, which lies at the 
foundation of all religion and of all hope, seems to me not only sustain- 
ed by proofs which satisfy the reason, but to be one of the deep in- 
stincts of our nature. * * * But, passing over this instinct, 
which is felt more and more to be unerring, as the intellect is 
improved ; this great truth seems to me demonstrable from this con- 
sideration, that Truth, the object and nutriment of mind, is one and 
immutable, so that the whole family of intelligent beings must have 
the same views, the same motives, and the same general ends. For 
example, a truth of mathematics is not a truth only in this world, a 
truth to our minds, but a truth everywhere, a truth in heaven, a truth 
to God, who has indeed framed his creation according to the laws of 
this universal science. So happiness and misery, which lie at the 
foundation of morals, must be to all intelligent beings what they are 
to us, the objects, one of desire and hope, and the other of aversion; 
and who can doubt that virtue and vice are the same everywhere as 
on earth, that, in every community of beings, the mind which devotes 
itself to the general weal, must be more reverenced than a mind 
which would subordinate the general interest to its own. Thus all 
souls are one in nature, approach one another, and have grounds and 
bonds of communion with one another. I am not only one of the 
human race ; I am one of the great intellectual family of God. There 
is no spirit so exalted, with which I have not common thoughts and 
feelings." 

But I must refrain. See the whole passage. Discourses by W. E. 
Channing, p. 202—209. 



NEW FACTS. 167 

We are not to admit them lightly and without proof. 
But when once fairly established, then the inference is, 
not that they interrupt, but that they reveal and glorify 
with new splendour the great harmony of things. They 
take a place among the various and unnumbered mani- 
festations of the controlling forces or laws of the uni- 
verse. They are new facts, of pre-eminent importance, 
far in advance of all other facts, but not in opposition to 
them. And they point immediately and with great signi- 
ficance, into the mysterious depths of the nature of him 
by whom they were wrought, and to the moral power 
resident there. Occurring, as they did, through the 
agency of an individual of unequalled moral elevation, 
this, I believe it will be found, is the grand Truth which 
they pre-eminently illustrate, viz., the native, essential, 
absolute supremacy of mind. They teach us that the 
mightiest force in nature — the energy to which all things 
are, by the constitution of nature, subordinate, — is spi- 
ritual force ; that this power resides to an unknown ex- 
tent in the bosom of man, and under certain conditions 
will assert its supremacy. Is there not something in our 
hearts which has already whispered to us of this stirring 
truth ! 

The miracles of Christ, being regarded as new facts in 
the history of man, enlarge and regenerate that sublime 
idea which we express under the name of God, and give 
us a new, more intimate and kindling conception of the 
mode of the Divine Agency. There is much else upon 
which they throw light. If I do not greatly err, they have 



168 THE FOREGOING VIEW CORROBORATED 

a bearing upon all philosophy and science. As facts 
simply, as parts of the immense sum of things, possessing 
innumerable bearings and relations, they must have a 
significance not to be fathomed at a glance. It is not for 
us to presume to enumerate all the ends and issues of 
any fact, any event in nature, however humble, much 
less of events of such magnitude as the facts of the life of 
Jesus. I have mentioned only one of the great truths 
which they establish — the light which they throw upon 
the Divine Nature. This is a great, a most needed light. 
What is it that in all ages man has so mournfully lacked 
as a living persuasion of the reality and efficiency of moral 
force'? What is it that has ever so obstructed the 
progress of reform, the great work of human regenera- 
tion, as a want of faith ; I use not this term in a theolo- 
gical sense, but as equivalent to a belief in the existence 
of moral power, and in the presence of this power in our 
own being, even in the loftiest sentiments and impulses 
of the human mind. We profess to believe in a God. 
But the God whom most men acknowledge is a distant, 
far off, shadowy being, a mere apparition at best. He 
only has a living faith in a God, who is conscious of a 
sacredness and an omnipotence in his own moral con- 
victions ; who believes that " God works within him to 
will and to do." Now this consciousness is addressed 
and strengthened by nothing more effectually than by the 
miracles of Jesus, considered as the effects and illustra- 
tions of the moral force dwelling in him. 



BY THE LANGUAGE OF JESUS. 169 

The view now suggested of the wonderful works of 
Christ receives great corroboration from the language of 
Jesus himself. How invariably did he refer them to the 
power of faith ! How often and in what strong terms 
did he speak of this power, assuring his personal followers, 
those simple-minded men, that by means of it, they also 
might do the works that he did and even greater ! How 
emphatic was his declaration to the individual who 
brought his sick child to him for relief. "If," said the 
distressed parent, "if thou canst do anything for us, help 
us." " What dost thou mean," replied Jesus, for so the 
original admits of being understood, " by asking if I can ! 
Do thou believe. All things are possible to him who 
believeth." But it is unnecessary to adduce passages. No 
one can have read the New Testament without observing 
the mysterious influence ascribed to faith; faith as it 
existed in an unparalleled degree in Jesus, as it was 
created in the minds of many around him, partly by the 
pressure of heavy personal suffering, and as it may be 
cherished, in a greater or less degree, by all. Surely, as 
it has been observed, there is a meaning in these declara- 
tions, which points to a great principle, and is not exhaust- 
ed by their original application.* 

Is it said that Jesus referred his miracles to the direct 
agency of the Father] Undoubtedly he did so. And 
the way of viewing his wonderful works upon which I 

* See an article upon Swedenborg in the Christian Examiner (No. 
59.) for some striking remarks coincident with our views. 

15 



170 THE MODE IN WHICH JESUS USED 

insist is not inconsistent, nay, it is identical with such a 
reference. The power of faith is the power and spirit of 
God. To God Jesus directly referred all power. And it 
is interesting to observe that, even when he states a princi- 
ple of natural justice, a fact existing in the natural provi- 
dence of God, his phraseology, taken to the letter, implies 
the immediate agency of Heaven. " Unto him who hath 
shall be given, and from him who hath not shall be taken 
away even that which he hath." Here we have the state- 
ment of a fact or principle existing in the nature of things. 
He who improves acquires more power; he who does 
not improve, loses the power he originally possessed. 
Here is the same truth stated in different words. But in 
the form in which it is presented by Jesus, the idea is 
given that power is directly communicated or as directly 
withdrawn by the immediate will or judgment of God.* 

The manner in which the greater portion of the extra- 
ordinary works of Jesus are represented to have been 
wrought, is very remarkable. The modes in which he 
exerted his astonishing power may well arrest our atten- 
tion upon any view of the case. But if I do not greatly 
err, there is much here that goes to confirm the present 

* See John vi. 44. " No man can come to me except the Father 
who hath sent me draw him." This language certainly expresses 
the immediate agency of God, and yet it states a natural truth. No 
one can understand Christ unless he is actuated by those motives, 
that spirit of truth, by which God leads men to truth and goodness. 
See also Matthew xvi. 17. In this passage are we to understand 
Jesus as saying that Peter had had a special, miraculous revelation ? 



HIS EXTRAORDINARY POWER. 171 

theory ; much which intimates strongly, that the power of 
Jesus, new and astonishing as it was, was still a power 
analogous to all the other powers of Nature, in that it ap- 
pears to have been exerted under conditions. It has 
much of the appearance and character of a Law. It is not 
by any means necessary to the correctness of the views 
now offered, that we should be able to trace in every, or 
even in any case the action of that moral force to which 
I believe the miracles of Christ are to be referred. It is 
enough if the presence of such a force is only establish- 
ed, and no limits can be assigned to it. Who shall set 
bounds to that agency of mind so manifestly concerned in 
their production? 

But in the case of many of the miracles, a mental 
or moral influence is remarkably traceable. We have 
all heard of numerous and well attested cases, in 
which the body has been instantaneously relieved from 
some great infirmity by a strong mental impression. A 
sudden emotion of Fear, for instance, has frequently been 
followed by such a result. Shall we allow to so low a 
principle as this such extraordinary power, and be reluc- 
tant to grant that higher, nobler, stronger mental convic- 
tions may have an influence as great, or even more vital 1 
I have already in another connexion, and for a different 
purpose, referred to the instance of the woman who came 
behind Jesus and touched his garments, and was imme- 
diately cured of a disease under which she had laboured 
for years. In this case, as he expressly assured her, it 
was her own faith to which the cure was to be attributed. 



172 THE MAN WITH A WITHERED HAND. 

We can but faintly conceive how her mind was disposed 
by long physical suffering to be powerfully affected by 
the excitement his wonderful career had produced — by 
the reports of his astonishing power. On one occasion, 
as we read, there was a man in the synagogue with a 
withered hand who was instantly cured by Jesus. This 
incident illustrates other things besides the manner in 
which he exerted his extraordinary power, and I shall re- 
cur to it again for another purpose. For the present, is 
it not deserving of remark, that Jesus did not apply him- 
self directly to the diseased limb, but to the mind of the 
man. He addressed himself to the individual. He spoke 
to him. " Stretch forth thine hand" was his command, 
and the sufferer stretched it, out and it was made whole 
as the other. In the production of this effect there is 
ample room for the supposition of a powerful mental or 
moral influence. The individual cured could not have 
been a stranger to the extraordinary character and repu- 
tation of Jesus. He could hardly have been unconscious 
of that reverence which this remarkable personage had 
inspired. And even if he were, I can easily imagine that 
his mind must have been powerfully impressed by the 
awful authority of the eye, the voice, the whole bearing 
of Jesus, and that, thus acted upon, his mind put forth a 
sudden and unexpected force, and sent life and vigour 
through the diseased hand. The authority of the mind 
over a healthy limb, saving that we are familiar with it ? 
is not less miraculous and inscrutable than its influence 
in this instance over a withered member. Could the 



THE CENTURION'S CHILD. 173 

scales of familiarity fall from our eyes, could our minds 
only be emancipated from the thraldom of custom, 

" Heavy as frost and deep almost as life," 

the views now suggested might hope to find favour. 

Even the case of the Centurion's son or servant, who 
was cured of palsy by Jesus while he was at a distance 
from him, which may seem to contradict our theory, ad- 
mits, without any violence done to probabilities, of the 
supposition of a strong mental influence. The Centurion 
was a man of uncommon sensibility and faith. He was 
beloved by the Jews. His confidence in the power of 
Jesus astonished our Saviour himself, and drew from him 
that memorable declaration, " Verily I say unto you, I 
have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel. Many 
shall come from the East and the West and the North 
and the South, and sit down with Abraham and Isaac 
and Jacob in the kingdom of Heaven, while the children 
of the kingdom shall be thrust out ;" a declaration which 
shows most impressively how comprehensive were his 
aims, and how instinctively his regards extended beyond 
the narrow limits of his own nation. There must have 
been some congeniality of character between the Centu- 
rion and his favourite servant. The persons, who had 
gone to request the benevolent offices of Jesus, returned 
probably with the exciting intelligence that he was ap- 
proaching. Who can doubt that this must have had a 
powerful effect upon the sufferer, connected, as it no doubt 
15* 



174 THE DEMONIAC OF GADARA. 

was, with the strong expressions of the Centurion's faith 1 
Even if these suppositions may not be made, there re- 
mains the declaration of Jesus, " According to thy faith 
be it done unto thee." 

Again. The accounts of the cure of the demoniac of 
Gadara present some remarkable particulars pointing the 
same way. This case has occasioned much cavil, and it 
is not to be denied that it is pressed by difficulties. I 
have no explanation to propose which I can hope will 
prove satisfactory. But there are certain aspects under 
which it may be viewed, which wonderfully corroborate 
our doctrine. For instance, I do not know that it has 
ever been noticed, and yet it is a point well worthy of 
attention, that the evil spirits still held possession of the 
man, or rather he was still insane, even after Jesus had 
rebuked the demon and commanded him to come out of 
him. How is this circumstance to be reconciled with 
the idea that the miraculous power of Jesus was a power 
which had no regard in its exercise to conditions } Jesus 
commanded but he was not obeyed ! The man was still 
crazy, he still spoke as if there were a legion of evil 
spirits in him, although his ferocity had vanished. In ac- 
cordance with the foregoing representations, I adopt the 
following view of this case. I suppose that the insanity 
of this man had been produced, or at least very much ag- 
gravated, by a fearful mental impression — the idea that 
he was possessed by evi! spirits. In all ages popular 
superstitions and errors have had a large share in pro- 
ducing or confirming mental derangement. The belief of 



THE DEMONIAC OF GADARA. 175 

those days in the influence of malignant spirits must 
have had fearful effects upon excitable temperaments. 
The very circumstance that the Gadarane believed there 
was a Legion of demons in him, shows how strong was 
his conviction that he was possessed. Here then was the 
seat of his malady, in this fatal impression. And it had 
become so inveterate that it could be corrected only in 
a certain way and by means adapted to the nature of the 
case. Jesus rebuked the evil spirit, or in other words 
exerted his authority over the madman, and he became 
comparatively calm. And no doubt he would have re- 
mained so, as long as Jesus was present, but after his 
departure the man's derangement would in all probability 
have returned in all its violence. Jesus, perceiving that 
he was still possessed, or insane, asked his name, with a 
view no doubt to ascertain the state of the case. And 
here it does not appear to have been sufficiently consi- 
dered, that the proposal to send the evil spirits into the 
swine did not come from Jesus but from the maniac. It 
was the suggestion of insanity, and it appears to me to be 
characterised by the cunning of insanity. While the un- 
happy man took care to speak in the character of the evil 
spirits by whom he believed himself possessed, it would 
seem as if he were actuated by a secret desire to have 
decisive evidence, ocular proof that they had really for- 
saken him, and so he proposed that they should be sent 
into the swine. It was an insane proposal, but the result 
was exactly fitted to act upon and satisfy a diseased 
mind, to restore it to soundness and relieve it of the 



176 THE MEANS WHICH JESUS USED, 

fatal impression under which it laboured. The fate of 
the swine was calculated to convince the man that the 
malignant influence was no longer exerted upon him. 
How the swine were affected I cannot tell. I see no dif- 
ficulty in supposing that they were visited with sudden 
mania at the will of Jesus. Nor does this supposition 
militate against his benevolence. If, as it appears, such 
a demonstration of power were necessary to relieve the 
mind of the madman of a fatal delusion, surely the value 
of the swine was not to be weighed against the welfare 
of a human being labouring under a terrible disease, and 
the comfort of the whole vicinity, endangered by the fero- 
city of the maniac. No man could pass that way because 
he was so violent and savage. 

I am not attempting a complete solution of this case. 
I would only observe that, so far as I am capable of 
seeing into it, it appears to warrant in a remarkable 
manner, the views of the miraculous power of Jesus, 
which I offer. Here, so far at least as the madman 
was concerned, this extraordinary power appears to have 
been exerted, not in violation cf, but in accordance with 
the laws of the human mind. 

In the accounts of the miracles of Jesus we find that 
he continually employed means of one kind or another, 
means confessedly inadequate of themselves to produce 
the designed effects, but still means. When the leper 
came to him, he did not merely say, " I will, be thou 
clean," but he extended his hand and touched the leper. 
In the case of the man born blind, he spat on the ground 



REMARKABLE. 177 

and made clay of the spittle and anointed the eyes of the 
blind man. And in another case, when an individual was 
brought to him deaf, and with an impediment in his 
speech, he pursued a similar method, touching the tongue 
of the man. I am aware that it is said he did these 
things in order to indicate decisively to those around 
him that the cures, the wonderful effects wrought, were 
produced by himself; that in the cure of the man born 
blind, which took place on the Sabbath, Jesus intended 
to discredit the childish tradition of the Pharisees, that 
forbade the use of any medicaments on that day, even so 
much as anointing the eyes with saliva. That these may 
have been his reasons for the methods he employed, I will 
not deny, and yet they do not wholly satisfy me. The 
naturalness and singleness of his character have been so 
mournfully obscured by his being so often represented as 
speaking and acting for effect, that I distrust every inter- 
pretation of his words or works, which goes not beyond 
this. Believing in the doctrine of his double nature and 
his absolute omniscience, men have lost all sense of the 
simplicity and sincerity of his character, and he has been 
regarded as speaking and acting, not from any vital healthy 
impulse of his own nature, but merely with a view to 
others. When, for instance, he marvels at the faith of the 
Centurion, it is not, if we adopt the common belief, to be 
imagined that he was really astonished, or that he was 
not previously perfectly acquainted with the character of 
the Centurion ; but that he affected to be surprised, in 
order to impress others with this uncommon instance of 



178 CONNEXION OF THESE VIEWS 

faith. In this way, let me repeat, the idea of Jesus has 
been divested of all naturalness, and it is no wonder that 
he does not move our deepest sympathies, and kindle our 
loftiest enthusiasm. My mind may be tending to an op- 
posite extreme. Still I beg leave to say, that while I re- 
cognise in Jesus a constant regard to the circumstances 
and wants and feelings of those around him, I look always 
in every, even the slightest particular of his conduct, for 
some higher motive than a mere view to effect. When 
he was astonished at the confidence of the Centurion, he 
undoubtedly aimed to make an impression on the minds 
of others; still, I believe, he expressed the sincere, strong, 
irrepressible emotion of his own soul — that he was un- 
affectedly astonished. And so, in respect to his miracles, 
when he touches the leper, accompanying the action with 
the words, "I will; — be thou clean," I do not deny that 
he may have intended to show that the cure proceeded 
from him, and also, that he did not shrink from contact 
with that terrible disease. But then I must believe that 
he touched the leper in order to his cure; that the con- 
tact, connected with the few words he uttered, was 
actually the means by which he inspired the mind of the 
sufferer with the faith essential to his cure, by which he 
excited in him that mysterious mental power which in- 
stantly communicated health to the body. We may won- 
der how an act so simple should have such an effect. But 
the efficacy of means is in all cases equally inscrutable. 
We can have but a dim idea of the predisposition to be- 
lieve in Jesus, produced in the leper by all that he had 



WITH THE SINGLENESS OF HIS CHARACTER. 179 

suffered, nor is it probable that we have been conscious 
of a state of mind, or of a degree of faith like that which 
he evinced, when he said, " Lord, if thou wilt," &c. In 
his state of mind, the word and the touch of one like 
Jesus, thrilling him to his inmost soul, were omnipotent. 
In the instance of the deaf man who had an impediment 
in his speech, he used saliva, and we are told that he took 
the man apart from the crowd, which would seem to show 
that he had no direct reference to the spectators, in the 
means which he used. Here again I believe, that the 
simple method he adopted was employed to express or 
communicate his own faith, the power and authority of 
his own spirit, to the spirit of the individual whom he 
relieved, and so to act upon his physical infirmity. That he 
should use such means, and that they should be effectual, 
will occasion but little difficulty, if we only bear it fully 
in mind, how miraculous it is that spiritual power, in 
the ordinary intercourse of life, ceaselessly passes from 
mind to mind through the utterance of a few articulate 
sounds. The influence of speech in imparting and 
awakening mental force, were it observed for the first 
time, would seem as inadequate, as amazing, as in- 
explicable, save upon the supposition of supernatural 
power, as the effect of the methods employed by Jesus 
to give health to the sick, hearing to the deaf, and sight 
to the blind. 

Agreeably to these representations, I believe that when 
Jesus stood before the open tomb of his friend, and cried 
with a loud voice, " Lazarus, come forth," he did not utter 



180 " LAZARUS ! COME FORTH!" 

this cry, merely to indicate to the bystanders the con- 
nexion between the cause and the effect, but, because he 
expected, he believed, he knew that Lazarus would hear 
him and awake, and that the body, re-animated by the 
awakened mind, would come forth. But Lazarus was 
dead! Yes, he was indeed dead. But then, most ear- 
nestly do I beg the reader to pause and ask himself, what 
is death 1 Do we know enough of this event to be able to 
say that a voice, inspired by such a spirit as that of 
Jesus of Nazareth, cannot, in the very nature of things, 
penetrate the ears of the dead, and awaken them 
from their mysterious slumbers'? Remember, there was 
a spirit present here, a spirit of unknown powers, of un- 
precedented greatness. Just before Jesus summoned 
Lazarus from the tomb, he lifted up his eyes to heaven 
and said, "Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me, 
and I know that thou nearest me always ; nevertheless, 
because of these here present I said it, that they may be- 
lieve that thou hast sent me." For what did he thank 
the Father ? Not for a special communication of mira- 
culous power at that moment, because the history of his 
life gives us to understand that this extraordinary power, 
whatever it was, was exerted by him at will. It was, I 
conceive, not for the power of working the miracle, but 
for such an opportunity as was then afforded him. 
Lazarus had been his friend, bound to him by those ties 
of faith and love, which no physical change can break. 
And we know not what influence this circumstance may 
have had in facilitating the exertion of his extraordinary 



OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED. 181 

power, except that on all occasions faith was represented 
as an indispensable condition of its exercise. 

But, as I have already said, it is not necessary to the 
establishment of our theory, that we should be able, in a 
given instance, to trace the influence of that spiritual force 
by which I believe these extraordinary effects to have been 
produced. These views cannot be dismissed as altogether 
extravagant and groundless, so long as it is admitted 
that there was concerned in the production of the 
miracles of the New Testament a power of unknown 
extent, a power intimately related to matter, and con- 
tinually acting upon matter in unnumbered and inscruta- 
ble ways. 

It will be objected to the mode of regarding the Chris- 
tian miracles which I have now sought to unfold, that if 
it be correct, we should have had more numerous mani- 
festations of the wonder-working power of the spiritual 
Law. I observe, in reply, that as we cannot without pre- 
sumption suppose that all the laws of Nature have been 
made known to us, so there must be some of its laws, 
which have been only rarely, and at the remotest inter- 
vals, demonstrated. The wonder is that a law, so grand 
and all enlightening, should have been revealed at all. 
And although, in the person of Jesus Christ, we have the 
only beautiful and consistent revelation of its agency, yet 
in all ages there have prevailed impressions and rumours 
which, rightly interpreted, obscurely intimate a tran- 

16 



182 OBJECTIONS CONSIDERED. 

scendent power in the soul of man, in his inmost nature 
a spirit of undefined authority. In the days of Jesus, 
there were those who regularly followed the profession of 
Exorcists, undertaking to drive out the evil spirits by 
which the insane were believed to be possessed, by certain 
forms, medicaments, and incantations. Is it to be sup- 
posed that they were never successful 1 And if they were 
occasionally successful, is there any mode of explaining 
their success more rational, than by supposing that they 
gained an extraordinary influence over the minds of their 
patients, securing their confidence, and so operating upon 
the physical frame through the spiritual 1 How shall we 
solve the existence of Empiricism, flourishing, in one form 
or another, in all ages of the world, but by reference to 
the mysterious power of mind over matter, of the thought 
over the body] Without the lucid demonstrations of 
this power in the introduction of Christianity, we have 
much in the history of the world that indicates its exist- 
ence, although its nature, limits and conditions have been 
wrapt in the greatest obscurity. 

In denying that the order of Nature has been violated, 
I may be charged with helping to perpetuate that narrow- 
ing influence which the observation of this order has 
sometimes exerted, and which Dr. Channing has so 
well described in th'e Discourse already quoted. On 
the contrary, I maintain, it is the common idea of the 
Christian miracles, as interruptions or violations of the 
natural order of things, that contributes to this unhappy 



THE MIRACLES, NOT TO BE THOUGHT LIGHTLY OF. 183 

effect. It virtually concedes that a divine spiritual agency- 
is in nature indirect. It allows nature to be conceived of 
as a sort of labour-saving contrivance, a machine without 
any intrinsic worth or beauty, going by itself, with only 
an indirect dependence upon a higher Power. It pro- 
motes in men's minds the idea of a separation between 
the common works and ways of the creation and the 
Creator himself, and so induces them to contemplate the 
former, without any necessary reference to the latter. 
Whereas, establish the miracles as demonstrations of a 
supreme spiritual force, existing in the nature of things, 
and acting in a manner kindred to, and in harmony with, 
all the other agencies that we witness ; and then the 
power of physical causes over the mind is broken. God, 
who was afar off, is brought near and enthroned in 
Nature. 

Finally, the theory now suggested of the miracles of 
Jesus Christ gives them a new and indescribable worth, 
rendering them as important, interesting and enlight- 
ening as they are extraordinary. They become worthy 
the attention of the profoundest philosophy. It indicates 
a serious defect in the prevalent theory on this subject, 
that those who maintain it attach little value to these 
remarkable facts. At the best they are represented as 
mere evidences, valuable at the time they took place, but 
of little worth now; constituting, it would seem, a sort of 
argumentum ad hominem! But surely, if they are facts, 
if they are admitted to have occurred, they are a part of 



184 THEY SPEAK NOT TO THE UNDERSTANDING ONLY. 

the great Whole, and, like everything else in the creation 
of God, they must have an untold variety of uses and 
ends ; and it is the grossest arrogance in man to limit 
their value. As if any facts, much more such as these of 
the life of Christ, were ever to be exhausted of all meaning 
and power ! It seems to me a very narrow and unworthy 
way of thinking, to represent God as doing anything 
merely to prove somewhat to the human understanding. 
It is beautiful, nay sublime, in an ancient poem like the 
book of Job, to describe the Deity as entering into an 
argument with man. But does it comport with an 
elevated conception of a Supreme and Perfect Being, a 
being whose Goodness is the fountain of his wisdom, the 
creator of the soul with its infinite aspirations, as well as 
the author of the understanding, to regard Him as an 
Almighty Disputant, aiming principally to convince the 
reason of his creatures 1 Undoubtedly everything he has 
created or brought to pass does prove much to the mind. 
But I cannot believe that this is in any case the only or 
the chief design of the Infinite One. The understanding 
is not man's highest faculty, and it cannot be God's high- 
est aim. The miracles of Jesus are great evidences. He 
himself referred to them as such. And yet we have good 
reason to believe that it was not only, or chiefly, for what 
they would prove that he wrought them. He would not 
condescend to work miracles to convince those who, by 
their hostile dispositions towards him, showed that they 
cherished no love of truth in their hearts. " He did not 



THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 185 

many mighty works there, because of their unbelief," 
a remarkable declaration. Again and again he inti- 
mated, more or less explicitly, that nothing he did or said 
would have any effect upon men, save as they already 
possessed some feeling of the loveliness of Truth. It 
would seem therefore that he appealed by his words and 
works not principally to the reasoning faculty, but to a 
loftier sentiment of the heart. Although the purest ration- 
ality (if I may so speak) characterized all that he uttered, 
yet he would not descend to debate and reason about the 
truth where the heart was not already disposed towards 
him, powerful as were the arguments, satisfactory as 
were the attestations he could bring. The spirit which 
actuated him in this respect was akin to the spirit of God, 
and it illustrates the godlike dignity of his character and 
his aim. 

The great doctrine I have endeavoured to set forth 
cannot be appreciated without faith ; by which I mean that 
exercise or state of mind — that mental eye — by which we 
discern in all things a spiritual, supernatural, super- 
sensual agency. We cannot see the miracles of Jesus as 
natural facts, except as we are ascending that eminence 
of Faith, from which we look abroad and recognise the 
supernatural everywhere in the natural. The common 
idea of the miracles is based upon a mechanical philoso- 
phy — a philosophy of the senses. We conceive of the 
universe as a piece of mechanism, going in some sort of 
itself; so our ideas of the Divine nature and agency 
are fashioned upon a false, human analogy, which blinds 
16* 



186 THE NECESSITY OF FAITH. 

that spiritual sense within us, the principle of faith, and 
impedes our approach unto God. We say indeed that 
all power was originally from God, but we conceive of 
him as having delegated certain measures of power to 
what we call the general laws, the order of Nature, so 
that now, as things are, He stands in the same relation 
to his creation that a man does to the machine he has in- 
vented, and if any departure from our experience occurs, 
we set it down as a peculiar interposition — a stretching 
forth of the arm which otherwise hangs comparatively idle 
and at rest ! Our ideas of the Divinity are thus narrowed, 
and we flatter ourselves that we know him when we 
know him not. "If any man shall think," says Bacon, 
" by view and inquiry into these sensible and material 
things to attain to any light for the revealing of the nature 
or will of God ; he shall dangerously abuse himself. It is 
true, that the contemplation of the creatures of God hath 
for end, as to the nature of the creatures themselves, 
knowledge ; but as to the nature of God, no knowledge, 
but wonder: which is nothing else but contemplation 
broken off, or losing itself. Nay further, as it was aptly 
said by one of Plato's school, the sense of man resembles 
the sun, which openeth and revealeth the terrestrial globe, 
but obscureth and concealeth the celestial ; so doth the 
sense discover natural things, but darken and shut up 
divine. And this appeareth sufficiently in that there is 
no proceeding in invention of knowledge but by simili- 
tude ; and God is only self-like, having nothing in common 
with any creature, otherwise than as in shadow and trope. 



THE MIRACLES OF JESUS ILLUSTRATE HIM. 187 

Therefore attend his will as himself openeth it, and give 
unto faith that which unto faith belongeth ; for more 
worthy is it to believe, than to think or know, consider- 
ing that in knowledge, as we are now capable of it, the 
mind suffereth from inferior natures ; but in all belief it 
suffereth from a spirit, which it holdeth superior, and more 
authorized than itself." [Of the Interpretation of 
Nature.) 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE MIRACLES OF CHRIST ILLUSTRATIONS OF HIS CHARACTER. 

" The combination of the spirit of humanity, in its lowliest, ten- 
derest form, with the consciousness of unrivalled and divine glories, 
is the most wonderful distinction of this wonderful character." 

Channing. 

In the foregoing chapter I have ventured to express 
and endeavoured to support the opinion, that the miracles 
of Jesus were not departures from the laws of nature, but 
new facts in nature, demonstrations of the sovereignty of 
mind over matter ; that they were wrought by a mysteri- 
ous force dwelling in his nature, and in various degrees 
in human nature, and that they vindicate the vitality and 
supremacy of moral power. I have affirmed that we 



188 THE MIRACLES OP JESUS ILLUSTRATE HIM. 

cannot pronounce an event a violation of the natural 
order of things, without assuming that we know the 
whole order of nature, all its forces and laws. Neither 
without the same groundless assumption can we term 
the resurrection of a dead man to life a natural impossi- 
bility. We do not know what death is ; nor have the 
secret powers of the human spirit ever yet been ascer- 
tained. How do we know but that it is in and through 
the human soul that the Infinite Soul reveals its highest 
glory, and puts forth its most awful power ! No man 
therefore can refuse to examine the Christian miracles as 
if they were utterly incredible. Nay, we cannot refuse 
to examine any event, however strange and extraordi- 
nary, unless we know beforehand all the conditions and 
limits of the forces concerned in bringing it about. The 
miracles of Jesus have a claim upon our attention as 
things capable of proof, which we cannot reject without 
violating also the claims of candour and good sense. 

The subject of the present chapter is, the miracles of 
Jesus considered in relation to his character. Here, if I 
do not greatly err, we shall find the grand test of their 
truth. If there is an indubitable harmony between them 
and the spiritual features of Jesus, I confess that, for my 
own part, I ask for no evidence of their reality more con- 
vincing. If they are mere fictions, the offspring of cun- 
ning or weakness, I maintain that it is impossible they 
should not obscure and deform palpably his spiritual 
beauty: 

The merest glance at the extraordinary works of Jesus 



GREAT GIFTS, GREAT TRIALS. 189 

awakens within us a new sentiment of disinterestedness. 
How continually is the world's history teaching us what 
a dangerous, fatal gift to its possessor is any peculiar en- 
dowment of fortune or genius, though it be of quite ordi- 
nary worth ! How quickly does the consciousness of the 
slightest advantage blind the mind to its true relations to 
mankind, and induce the idea that its own glory should be 
its chief end ! The rich and great and gifted, comparing 
themselves, as they cannot escape doing, with other men, 
and perceiving their own superiority in certain respects 
more or less striking, have almost unconsciously adopted 
the pleasing conclusion that they must be of more value 
than the rest of the world, and of course they have come 
to claim as a matter of right that they should be magni- 
fied and made much of. They have fancied that they 
were sent hither, " not to do a great kindness, but to re- 
ceive a great kindness ;" to be the world's idols ; and so, 
instead of being benefactors, they have proved selfish, 
exacting oppressors, grinding their brethren in the dust, 
or drenching the earth with blood. Only a very few, at 
remote intervals, have shown that they interpreted any 
peculiar advantage of condition or any uncommon power 
of mind, as a peculiar and peremptory summons to every 
species of toil and self-sacrifice. Seldom, very seldom 
indeed, have those possessed of a higher wisdom, of an 
uncommon force of character, gloried in the possession 
because it enabled them to disregard all that the world 
most values ; to do and endure with an unconquerable 
and evergrowing patience, for the sake of some unworldly 



190 JESUS, CONSCIOUS OF HIS GREATNESS, 

aim ; esteeming as their highest honour, their unutterable 
distinction, the ability given them to love man and la- 
bour and agonise and die for him, not the less willingly, 
but the more so, because he resisted their fraternal offices, 
and rejected their affectionate counsels, and would have 
none of their services, struggling with them even unto 
blood ! This spirit, I repeat, the world has seldom wit- 
nessed. When it has descended and dwelt in some few 
bosoms, it has never for the time been to any extent ap- 
preciated. It has been denounced as madness and fana- 
ticism. Still it has been secretly felt that there is* some- 
thing in it which is not of earth — ' aliquid immensum, in- 
finitumque.' And when it has wrought out its beneficent 
effects, then the human heart has been true to itself, and 
done homage to the rare generosity of those, who have 
flung behind them every thought of their own happiness, 
and been consecrated to an unselfish end. In individuals 
of this class, it has begun to be felt that we have the 
brightest manifestation of real greatness. 

What an idea of this nobleness dawns upon our minds 
when, bearing in mind that the miracles of Jesus were 
acts of beneficence, we strive to conceive, as we can at 
best but dimly, what must have been his feelings in the 
consciousness of this stupendous inborn authority! He 
knew that he was possessed of a mighty wisdom of which 
the world was not aware. In comparison with all other 
men, he could not be insensible to his own vast supe^ 
riority. And he was not. God alone, he says, knew him 
— knew what he was about, and he adds the all elevating 



BUT NEVER ELATED BY IT. 191 

thought that he alone, in any worthy sense of the word, 
knew the Father. Does his bosom heave with pride at 
the thought 2 The very next language which he is re- 
corded to have uttered is " Come unto me all ye who are 
weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest." He 
declares himself a king, born to the divinest end. But 
under what circumstances is this declaration made ? He 
is standing arraigned before the Roman Governor, his 
mind made up to suffer most ignominiously. Deep as 
was his conviction of the lofty height at which he stood, 
it never led him to misconceive in any one respect his 
true relation to the world. That selfish thoughts never 
suggested themselves to his mind we cannot affirm, for 
the history expressly states otherwise. 

"Evil into the mind of God or man 
May come and go, so unapproved, and leave 
No spot or blame behind :" 

But no idea of self-aggrandizement ever caused him to 
swerve a hair. Not one trace of that contempt which 
besets those who are able in any respect to look down 
upon their fellow men, is found in him. He walked not 
apart. He did not separate himself from a world whose 
unworthiness he must have felt, as it was never felt be- 
fore. On the contrary, in among life's coarsest realities 
he entered, and found there a sphere for his victorious 

love. 

I would not represent it as his highest praise that he 
never used his extraordinary power for any purpose pal- 



192 DEEPLY MOVED BY TOKENS OF SUCCESS, 

pably private — selfish — personal. For he must have been 
above being blinded by any such object. And besides, 
had he consciously attempted to work a miracle for some 
selfish end, his power would have gone from him instantly. 
It consisted, if I conceive his case rightly, in the very 
singleness and disinterestedness of his impulse. Here 
lay that transcendent energy that was within him. To 
suppose him to have been actuated by a different pur- 
pose, is to suppose him to be deprived of the very power 
by which he wrought miracles. But the unspeakable 
wonder is, that his very benevolence never misguided 
him ; that the suggestions of personal ambition, disguised 
under the air of the most generous feelings, never blinded 
his judgment, nor narrowed his beneficent will. We 
gather from these histories that he was by no means 
insensible to indications of success — to the effects of 
his ministry. When the seventy, whom he had sent 
forth to announce the approach of the expected kingdom, 
returned and related the striking results of the annuncia- 
tion, he broke forth in the triumphant language — "I be- 
held Satan fall like lightning from Heaven." A vivid 
vision of the overthrow of moral evil blazed before his 
mind. Again, at the well in Samaria, he sat down 
weary, hungry, and athirst. But in a little while, after 
some conversation with a stranger, a female whom he 
accidentally met there, and upon her exhibiting some signs 
of being impressed by the interview, he forgets his bodily 
wants. His spirit is refreshed, and the bodily craving 
for food vanishes. He sees the influence of his religion 



BUT NOT TO A DOUBTFUL USE OF HIS POWER. 193 

spread out visibly before him. He intimates that those 
who were to come after him, would have nothing to do. 
In the natural exhilaration of his mind, all obstacles for a 
moment disappear. When in connexion with this sensi- 
bility, we consider how rarely he was favoured with any 
decisive tokens of success, we are struck with the fact 
that he was never hurried into any doubtful and hasty use 
of his extraordinary influence. Tt was a fearful power in 
the hands of one living in a world like this. Most dan- 
gerous and awfully trying must have been the conscious- 
ness of authority by which it was attended. In the sen- 
sation which its first exercise must have excited, in the 
breathless crowds which it collected, in the flood of 
human feeling which it caused to gush forth around him, 
and concentrated upon him, to what a soul-searching trial 
was he exposed ! The humble peasant beheld men as 
wax in his hands, to be moulded at his pleasure. Why 
was he never betrayed out of the meekest self-possession 
by the dazzling thought of the influence which he might 
obtain 1 Never was he deluded into thinking how much 
good he might do by taking advantage of the impression 
he had made to exalt himself and fortify his own personal 
influence. This is the delusion to which men of the 
strongest minds and the purest intentions have fallen 
victims. By honest and enthusiastic promises to them- 
selves of the good to be accomplished thereby, they have 
been hurried into a questionable use of their peculiar gifts, 
into the employment of very doubtful means. But no 
cloud of this sort ever dimmed for an instant the clear 

17 



194 HIS MIRACLES BETRAY NO SELF-CARE. 

mind of Jesus, or alloyed that patient all-enduring love, 
in subordination to which his extraordinary opportunities 
were used. Imposing as were the demonstrations of 
popular favour at his astonishing career, the singleness 
of his benevolent purpose was never distracted by the 
least inclination towards human applause, by the least 
desire to excite and gratify human wonder, under the 
plausible idea of doing a world of good. Conscious, as 
he must have been, of an extraordinary authority, while 
he used it for no selfish end, he waited patiently, without 
weariness or haste, upon the providence on which he re- 
lied, never counting the cost to himself, nor caring how 
much he might be misunderstood and misrepresented. 
He seems, once for all, to have " dismissed every wish to 
stipulate for safety with his destiny." He, who miracu- 
lously fed thousands, not only endured hunger and thirst 
without a murmur, but sought to avoid and allay the ex- 
citement of those very thousands, when it was tending 
to his personal elevation. He, at whose word sick- 
ness and death vanished, fainted and expired in the most 
excruciating agony. Inwardly conscious of glory which 
was from eternity and of God, he submitted to be en- 
veloped in a cloud of shame, which only grew darker 
and darker as he advanced, and gathered in blackness 
round his latest moments. The outcast, loathed leper, 
the wretched maniac, the poor and blind and lame who 
lay by the way-side, these it was, and such as these, in 
whose service and relief this wonderful being used his 
extraordinary gifts. How simple and all-unmixt must 



DENY HIS POWER, YOU IMPAIR A GREAT MORAL IDEA. 195 

have been the benevolence which was never diverted 
from its true objects, never corrupted by the ever-present, 
powerful, and unprecedented inducements to self-display. 
The whole moral idea of the character of Jesus, must, 
I conceive, be impaired — its intense glory fades away, 
when we consider it disconnected from his extraordinary 
power. It loses the greatness and depth it possesses as 
the character of a being of unparalleled endowments, con- 
secrating his great gifts to the service of poor, ignorant, 
unworthy men, not only consenting to relinquish all the 
worldly power and influence which he might so easily 
have secured, but doing it with the utmost meekness, 
never magnifying the surrender, always apparently ac- 
counting it his greatest privilege, his highest glory, that 
he was able thus to do and endure at every personal 
sacrifice. For my own part, I hold cordially to the be- 
lief in his miraculous power, not, if I know myself, from 
any fondness for the marvellous, not because the mira- 
cles, as mere instances of physical power, have any pecu- 
liar charm for me, but because the conviction of the 
indwelling of this wonder-working power in Jesus, 
heightens my sense of moral greatness. It is indispensa- 
ble to the vividness and completeness of a glorious 
Spiritual Idea. I love to view him as one who, in the 
unequalled gifts and graces of his own nature, possessed 
the means of achieving for himself a magnificent destiny. 
Under the plausible idea of elevating the world, he might 
have justified to himself the employment of any measures 
for the promotion of his own power. But he went quietly 



196 THE MIRACLES OF JESUS ADDRESS 

and sublimely on, unconsciously foregoing every personal 
claim, consenting to be not only the active friend, but the 
meek, faithful, all-enduring, unrequited servant of his fel- 
low-men, spending in their behalf not only his great 
power, but himself— his own precious life. It is this, 
that renders his character unspeakably perfect and 
kindling. It is by far the noblest demonstration, yet 
given to the world, of Love superior to the most cunning 
blandishments of Power. 

There is another trait of the miracles of Jesus which is 
worthy the deepest attention. It appears to me that they 
illustrate not more impressively the purest love than the 
profoundest wisdom. Every reader of the New Testa- 
ment must have been struck with the importance which 
Jesus attaches to faith as an indispensable preliminary to 
the exercise of his extraordinary power. He demanded 
that those who applied to him for relief should first have 
entire confidence in him. " Believe — all things are pos- 
sible to him who believeth." He would not exert his 
power, where his authority was not first recognised. In 
one place " he would not do many mighty works because 
of their unbelief." In some minds, this mode of pro- 
ceeding has awakened the suspicion that he did not dare 
to put his claims to miraculous power to a close and scru- 
tinizing test.* And surely according to the usual repre- 

* How seriously this difficulty has been felt, and with what suc- 
cess it has been met, may be gathered from a discourse entitled, " On 
Christ's requiring faith in order to his miraculous cures," by Foster^ 



THE UNDERSTANDING, BUT NOT CHIEFLY. 197 

sentation of his miracles, considering them principally as 
evidences wrought to attest his divine mission, it may 
with no little plausibility be asked whether the unbelief 
prevalent in any particular place were not the chief rea- 
son why he should put forth his power, and not why he 
should forbear to exercise it. To my mind this question 
has no force, because it is urged upon a false or at least a 
very questionable ground. It goes upon the idea that 
the miracles of Jesus were the merest evidences, wrought 
for no higher end than to prove his authority ; for no 
greater purpose than to convince the understandings of 
those who chanced to be the spectators. This is the 
most common view of them I know. But I doubt very 
much its correctness. It is true, (as I observed at the 
close of the last chapter) Jesus referred to his works as 
evidences and attestations of his divine commission. And 
they may be considered under this aspect. But to deem 
this the only, or the most important light in which they 
may be viewed, I hold to be the dictate of a narrow, finite, 
and superficial philosophy, and it is fatal, in my humble 
opinion, to their truth to regard them thus. I should se- 
riously doubt their reality, if they were capable of being 
considered from no higher point of view. When you de- 
scribe them only as evidences, you represent them as 
wrought, not for their own sakes, not for any intrinsic 
worth, but — for it amounts to this — merel yfor effect. And 

immortalized in Pope's well known panegyric. See " Discourses on 
all the principal branches of Natural Religion and Social Virtue," by 
James Foster, D. D. 

17* 



198 THEY ADDRESS THE HEART, AND HENCE 

although it is no less a faculty than the human under- 
standing, which was to be wrought upon, still I cannot 
feel that they are truly and worthily apprehended, when 
they are so described. I am conscious of a nobler power, 
a diviner element in my nature, than that which concerns 
itself with arguments, proofs, reasonings. I have a moral 
or spiritual, as well as an intellectual faculty; a sense of 
the Lovely, the Beautiful, the Perfect. And whatever 
admits not of an appeal to that, lacks the strongest test 
of truth. I look forth upon the works and ways of God, 
and I perceive that every existing thing has a relation, 
not only to my understanding, but also to this higher prin- 
ciple of my nature, in popular language, to my heart, my 
soul. The flower is not merely an argument addressed 
to my reason. It has a moral, spiritual significance for 
my deeper affections. Everything that comes from God 
admits of being viewed in a light, which reveals in it a 
spiritual worth and beauty. So then, if you maintain that 
certain facts have taken place in the Providence, and by 
the design of God, which were intended to operate merely 
or chiefly as evidences, arguments, having no more ele- 
vated purpose, then I feel and say that they lack ana- 
logy — they exhibit no correspondence with the other 
works and ways of God. They want the divine signa- 
ture. I cannot perceive that anywhere — in any depart- 
ment of Nature, the Almighty does anything, or brings 
anything to pass merely to prove somewhat. He always 
has a purpose infinitely higher. He addresses something 
within me, deeper, holier than my reason. 



THEIR FORCE A.S EVIDENCES. 199 

Cherishing these views, my attention is powerfully ar- 
rested by the striking intimations given here and there, 
in the course of the Christian Records, of this fact : namely, 
that in working his miracles Jesus did not pay exclusive, 
nor chief regard to the understanding. He recognised 
something else and something higher in man than the 
reasoning faculty. He did not work merely to convince 
others of his authority, for he explicitly demanded that 
his authority should be first recognised. According to 
the common notions on this subject, if all around him had 
believed in him, he would have wrought no miracles, 
whereas I believe that in this case, he would have wrought 
more and greater miracles. Nay, had he been alone in 
the universe, with no other than that poor leper, and he 
had been a perfect saint in faith, I feel that Jesus would 
have done what he actually did. He would have stretch- 
ed forth his hand to the sufferer and said ' I will. Be 
thou clean.' His miracles were performed for them- 
selves intrinsically, because they were true, right, beauti- 
ful. They were not put forth merely for the sake of the 
influence they might have upon the understandings of 
others, but, like the glorious creations of genius, they 
were the simple, natural, irrepressible manifestations of 
that mighty spiritual force which was the inmost, God-in- 
spired life of Jesus. As I cannot believe that he ever spoke 
merely for effect, neither can I believe that he ever acted 
for effect, especially upon those occasions, when his in- 
spiration was the deepest, and the strongest. In fact, it 
is not until tee take this view of his miracles, that we are 



200 THE MIRACLES OF JESUS ILLUSTRATE 

able to appreciate a tithe of their weighty viewed merely 
as arguments. 

The wonderful works of Jesus illustrate his personal 
dignity. As the purposes for which they were performed 
disclose to us his self-forgetting spirit, his perfect wisdom, 
so the manner in which they were wrought, exhibits a 
corresponding elevation. There is a direct and quiet 
simplicity in the way in which he is described as produ- 
cing these astonishing effects, that may without extrava- 
gance be characterized as perfectly sublime. There is 
no parade, no flourish of preparation, no childish and 
fantastic expedient, to catch the vulgar eye and startle 
the vulgar mind, and awaken the suspicion of fraud in the 
more enlightened. The Mosaic account of the creation 
of light ' God said let there be light, and there was light,' 
has always been regarded as one of the most striking in- 
stances of sublimity on record. The accounts of some of 
the extraordinary works of Jesus are scarcely less sublime 
in their simplicity. " Lord, if thou wilt," said the leper 
to him, " thou canst make me clean. And Jesus extended 
his hand and touched him, saying, I will. Be thou clean. 
And immediately his leprosy was cleansed." 

On one occasion, as we read, there was in the Syna- 
gogue, on the Sabbath, a man with a withered hand. 
There were also present certain of the Pharisees and 
Priests, who were jealous of Jesus, and enraged at the 
boldness with which he taught. They were seeking an 
opportunity to destroy him. And on this occasion they 
watched to see whether he would perform a cure on the 



HIS PERSONAL DTGNITY. 201 

Sabbath and so expose himself to the charge of violating 
the day. He perceived their motives, and after bidding 
the man with a withered hand stand forth in the midst 
of the assembly, he turned to the individuals who were 
watching him and said ' Is it lawful to do well on the 
Sabbath day or to do ill] to save life or to kill?' There 
is a point in this question not perhaps apparent at first 
sight. Those whom he addressed were actuated by the 
most malignant feelings. They were thirsting for his 
blood, and, unconscious that they themselves were viola- 
ting the Sabbath most grossly, they were undertaking to 
watch and accuse him. He asks them in effect, ' Is it 
lawful to do good as I am about to do it, on the Sabbath 
day, or to do ill as you are now doing ! to save life as I 
intend, or to kill as you are eager to do ?' They were si- 
lent. "And when," continues the narrative, "he had looked 
round about on them with indignation, being grieved for 
the hardness of their hearts, he said to the man, Stretch 
forth thine hand ; and he stretched it out and it was made 
whole like the other." Does not this passage give us a 
new and vivid impression of the searching power of the 
address of Jesus? 

The account of the raising of Lazarus has the same 
effect. There is nothing puerile about it, nothing that 
jars with the elevated feeling which on other occasions 
his words and conduct have inspired. Can any one read 
this portion of his history without having created within 
him a new sentiment of sublimity 1 It is full of the in- 
spiration of Nature. The notices it contains of the sis- 



202 HE EVINCES NO SOLICITUDE 

ters Mary and Martha have already been remarked upon. 
If we are not, I had almost said, overwhelmed with the 
thrilling greatness of those words " I am the Resurrection 
and the Life : he that believeth on me, though he were 
dead yet shall he live, and whoso liveth and believeth in 
me shall never die," it is because we contemplate him 
who uttered them, at that elevated point at which he is 
seen, when we look at him through the vast and magni- 
ficent results of his life, as the Head and Founder of a 
widely established religion. Consider what he was at 
the moment he spake thus loftily, before the might}' 
change he has wrought in the world was realized. Then 
he was an humble, unknown individual, without name or 
visible authority, and a greater contrast cannot be ima- 
gined, than that which existed between his condition and 
his language. Thus viewed, his words stand out in 
wonderful relief, and he was either uttering the divinest 
wisdom or the wildest fanaticism. Again, the mysterious 
melancholy of Jesus, his deep, repeated sighs and tears, 
all give an indescribable interest to the scene presented 
at the grave of Lazarus ; and make us feel the astonish- 
ing originality of his character, to say no more. The 
mental depression he evinced on this occasion shows 
that the idea of the mighty work he was about to do did 
not produce in his bosom the slightest throb of vain 
glory. Through those heavenly tears there beamed not 
the faintest look of a weak self-complacency. 

In the performance of his extraordinary works, Jesus 
evinced no anxiety about his personal glory. His Ian- 



TO MAKE HIS PERSONAL AGENCY PROMINENT. 203 

guage continually is, " Thy faith hath cured thee," " Ac- 
cording to thy faith, be it done unto thee." While he 
was far from disowning his own agency in the produc- 
tion of these astonishing effects, he still pointed into the 
souls of those whom he relieved. Thither he traced the 
wonder-working force. In thinking more of their faith 
than his own power, what power of self-forgetfulness did 
he evince ! He took no particular care to make his per- 
sonal agency prominent. When the centurion's servant 
was cured of palsy, he did not even go to the house. 
When he gave sight to the man born blind, he sent him 
to wash at the fountain of Siloam, and it would seem as 
if he thus sent him away, in order to make for himself an 
opportunity of retiring, and to leave the miracle to speak 
for himself. He relieved the suffering and the afflicted 
freely, but he did not insist upon publicity. Once and 
again he bade those, whom he had cured, to go home. 
He did not allow them to accompany him, to sound his 
praises and bear witness to his power. He forbade them 
to speak of him as the Christ. The reason is obvious, 
and it is worthy of him. He did not wish to increase, 
but to allay the excitement his wonderful acts produced. 
The belief that he was the Messiah, getting abroad before 
he had made the pacific unworldly character of his office 
partially known, at least to some few minds, was calcu- 
lated seriously to obstruct the great work in which he 
was engaged. The people would have broken all bounds, 
and either have destroyed him at once, or compelled him 
to assume the regal style, identified in their hearts with 



204 TWO REMARKABLE PASSAGES. 

the idea of the Christ. What can be more simple and 
dignified, than the manner in which he is represented as 
producing the astonishing effects ascribed to him'? 

There are two passages recording miracles of Jesus, 
which deserve particular attention. They both occur in 
the narrative of Mark. Once, as we read, when Jesus 
raised to life a young female, he approached the bed 
where she lay, and said, " Talitha-ciimi" that is to say, 
" Young maid, I say unto thee arise." Again, when a 
man was brought to him deaf, and having an impediment 
in his speech, after making clay of his saliva, and touching 
the tongue of the man,* he sighed, and, looking up to 
Heaven, said " Ephphatha" that is to say, " Be opened." 
Now, here is a peculiarity in the narrative which requires 
explanation. Why, we cannot help asking, why did the 
narrator — no matter who he was — why did he introduce 
here the original — the precise words of Jesus 1 They are 
not singular words. They are among the simplest, and 
admit without the least difficulty of being translated. 
Nay, they are translated in the very next breath. How 
shall we account for this curious feature in the narrative? 
What is the cause of it? It admits of an explanation 
which is to my mind wonderfully natural. Imagine the 
utterance of these simple words to have been instantly 
followed by the effects which they are said to have pro- 
duced, namely, the restoration of the girl to life in the one 
case, and the recovery of the powers of hearing and 

* With what view he employed this means, see ch. viii. 



THE PROOF OF THE REALITY OF THE MIRACLES. 205 

speech in the deaf and dumb man in the other, and we 
perceive what stupendous power must have instan- 
taneously passed in the minds of those present into those 
brief articulate sounds that issued from the lips of Jesus, 
and the utterance of which naturally enough seemed to 
be the cause of the astonishing effects produced. What 
peculiar, supernatural, and untranslateable significance 
must these words have instantly been thought to possess, 
which wrought, or appeared to work, so mightily ! In the 
minds of the bystanders, those few sounds were instantly 
divorced, as by a stroke of lightning, from all familiar 
associations. Their ordinary import was lost in the new, 
instant, and unheard of power which their utterance re- 
vealed. They no longer had any satisfactory corre- 
spondence with the articulations of any other language. 
No other forms of speech were felt to convey the same 
miraculous meaning — to possess the like force. I know 
not whether I make myself understood, but I recognise 
here, in this peculiarity of the narrative, an irresistible 
argument for the reality of the wonderful facts here re- 
corded. That feature of these relations upon which I 
remark discloses to me in a manner the most natural, 
incidental, and unconscious, a state of mind which could 
have been produced by nothing but the actual sight of a 
sudden miracle. 

As I intimated in the commencement of this chapter, it 
is in the perfect correspondence of the miracles of Jesus, 
both in spirit and in form or manner, with the simplicity, 
originality and dignity of his character, that I discern an 

18 



206 WE HAVE THE ACCOUNTS OF THE .MIRACLES 

overwhelming evidence of their reality. If they did not 
take place as they are represented, then it must be sup- 
posed either that the accounts of the miracles were fabri- 
cated, and inserted into the narrations at an after-period 
by some other than the original writers of these histories, 
or else, that the original writers themselves, carried away 
by a love of the marvellous, or from ignorance or weak- 
ness of some kind, were led to misapprehend ordinary 
events, and without meaning to deceive, to describe as 
miraculous what was not miraculous. 

That we have these histories substantially as they 
were originally written ; that no considerable additions 
or alterations have been made in them, is a point, I con- 
ceive, on which we may be abundantly satisfied. That 
these books have to any extent suffered from interpola- 
tion, is an opinion which has sometimes been suggested, 
but never, amidst all the disputes and controversies that 
have prevailed, seriously maintained. There are only a 
very few passages indeed, in which the original text is 
supposed to be corrupted, and those are passages relating 
chiefly, not to facts, but to speculative points. From the 
earliest ages of the Christian era, fierce controversies 
have raged. There has been an incessant, and often- 
times a bloody war of opinions, and every sect has laid 
claim to the peculiar authority of the Scriptures. If, 
therefore, they have been garbled and interpolated for 
any purpose, it must have been for the sake of opinions ; 
to favour one or another of the different tenets that have 
been at various periods advanced. But we may be con- 



SUBSTANTIALLY AS THEY WERE WRITTEN. 207 

fident that no interpolations of this kind have been made, 
because in examining these books, we find that they fur- 
nish no support — make no allusions to the doctrines that 
have been so zealously upheld. I find in them no trini- 
tarian arguments, nor anti-trinitarian. They know no- 
thing of any such questions. Only by implication, not 
by design, do they take part in our theological disputes. 
Here, by the way, what a decisive proof have we that 
the Gospels must have been written previously to the 
appearance of the doctrines referred to. Had they been 
the work of any period subsequent to that in which th^y 
purport to have been written, they would have borne nu- 
merous and unquestionable traces of the dogmas which, 
in one form or another, have ever since prevailed. 

Besides, however anxious the different sects of Chris- 
tians may have been to secure the authority of Scripture 
each for itself, there was but little temptation to corrupt 
and garble the text, when the arbitrary and fanciful me- 
thods of explaining these books, so early adopted, allow- 
ed almost any doctrine to be proved from almost any 
passage. The allegorical mode of interpretation, so 
much favoured and practised by the early Christian wri- 
ters, fruitful as it was in errors, still served one good 
purpose. It protected the sacred text from all tampering 
and interpolation. There was little inducement to forge 
or corrupt a passage, when, by the exercise of a little in- 
genuity, a favourite opinion might be discovered on every 
page, in almost every syllable.* 

* The reader who wishes to see to what extent the Fathers carried 



208 IF FICTIONS, THEY WOULD INJURE 

As there are few interpolations worth speaking of, cal- 
culated to affect doctrines, we may be very confident that 
there are none in the case of the facts related. But to 
perceive how utterly groundless is the suspicion, that the 
accounts of the miracles may have been inserted into 
these narratives at a period subsequent to that in which 
these books were written, we have only to glance at the 
Apocryphal Gospels. There is one, for instance, entitled, 
' the Gospel of the Infancy of Jesus. 1 It is full of stories, 
the most childish and ridiculous ; stories which satisfy us, 
at once, of the impossibility of fabricating miracles that 
should not betray their falsehood by their palpable incon- 
sistency with the character of Jesus. 

But none, not even the authors of the New Testament 
histories themselves, could have forged miracles that 
should harmonise with the Spirit of Christ. In him we 
have a new manifestation of moral beauty. So much is 
admitted, even by those who deny any extraordinary 
agency in the introduction of Christianity. To connect 
mere fabrications with such a character, without produ- 
cing the most striking discordancy, would be combining 
the grossest delusions with the loftiest truths. Can the 
brightest light and the deepest darkness be so united that 
the eye cannot instantly discern the widest difference? 
Now to my mind it is wonderful enough, that the mira- 

the allegorical method of Interpretation, may be gratified by consult- 
ing a Review of the "Publications of Bishop Hopkins." — Christian 
Examiner , 3d Series, No. vi. 



THE MORAL IDEA WHICH IN FACT THEY REVEAL. 209 

cles, attributed to Jesus, do not directly and manifestly 
militate against his character. But this negative evi- 
dence of their reality, powerful, and altogether singular 
as it is, is not all. It is but the shadow of the argument 
which they carry with them. They not only do not vio- 
late the original beauty of that life, but more strikingly than 
anything else related of Jesus, they reveal, exalt and per- 
fect the moral idea which we form of him. They give us a 
conception of moral character, of the spiritual power and 
glory with which humanity is capable of being clothed, 
that we could not form by any other means. Nay, they 
harmonise not only with his life, but with the profoundest 
philosophy of our being. I cannot desire nor imagine 
any evidence for their reality more complete and satis- 
factory. 

Every one feels the force of the internal evidence for 
Christianity, expressed in its moral lineaments, in the 
wisdom and benignity of its precepts, the purity and 
thoroughness of its rules of life, and the virtues of its 
Founder. If I do not mistake, here lies the main founda- 
tion of every intelligent man's faith. The internal moral 
evidence the most sceptical have felt. Now what I say 
is this, that in no part of the New Testament histories is 
this moral power, in my view, more conspicuous than in 
the accounts of the miracles of Jesus. There is that in 
them, which goes to my heart as directly, creating faith 
there, as his eloquent recommendations of peace and love. 
In the exercise of his singular power, there is not only no 
display, nothing done for effect, no puerility, but a sublime 
IS ' 



210 JESUS AS A PROPHET. 

" majesty of action," a godlike singleness of purpose, a 
perfect naturalness, in which the heart may behold, with 
awe and with tears, the crowning manifestation of Divi- 
nity. His authority over matter arrests my attention, 
chiefly as it reveals his moral power, evinced in an entire 
freedom from pride and every selfish aim, and the complete, 
yet calm devotion of his whole being, with all its unpre- 
cedented gifts, to the cause of truth and of God. 



CHAPTER X 



JESUS AS A PROPHET. 



" — Thou prophetic spirit that inspirest 
The human soul of universal earth f" 

Wordsworth. 

My chief object in this chapter is, to show how satis- 
factorily the great Founder of Christianity is proved in 
the histories of his life to have been possessed of an extra- 
ordinary knowledge of future events. 

I wish first however, to make some remarks upon the 
nature of his Prophetical Gift. 

Whether he pierced the veil of Futurity by special, in- 
stantaneous inspiration of God, or by the natural intuition 
of his own wonderfully endowed being, I do not pretend 



THE SPIRIT OP PROPHECY, 211 

to determine, I do not know. But one thing is very plain, 
I cannot shut my eyes to the analogy that presents itself 
between the prophetical power of Jesus and the very 
nature of all mind. 

All things are in an infinite variety of ways interwoven 
with one another — great and little, high and low, past, 
present and future. The knowledge of any one thing 
involves an acquaintance with numberless other things. 
How far into the depths of the Past hath the eye of Science 
penetrated, simply by surveying the present appearance 
and condition of the earth ! What mighty and remote 
revolutions hath the human mind predicted by observing 
the present positions of the heavenly bodies ! Nay is not 
our very nature as it exists in all men, in a feeble degree 
perhaps, but still in a certain sense, prophetical 1 What 
is this yearning that we have towards the Future, or, to 
say no more, the bare idea of the Future, what is it but 
the germ of prophecy in the human soul? It reveals at 
least the desire and capacity of foreknowledge — that 
faculty of our being, which, let us only advance as we 
may, and as we feel that we ought, will qualify us to 
receive whatever communications of foreknowledge may 
be made to us here or hereafter, and however they may 
be made. Beautifully, but not more beautifully than truly, 
has it been said, 

44 Know'st thou Yesterday, its aim and reason ? 
Work'st thou well To-day for worthy things ? 
Then fear not thou the morrow's hidden season, 
But calmly wait what hap soe'er it brings." 



212 THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY. 

But why fear not the Future] Why calmly wait? 
Because to the mind that wisely listens to the Past and 
faithfully uses the Present, there must come the assured 
conviction that the Future has in store for it no real evil. 
To know so much of Futurity as this, though we should 
never know more, is it not prophetic knowledge 1 To 
know and feel that the Everlasting Future can do us no 
harm, surely this is to see with a prophet's ken ! But 
some minds have seen further and more clearly into the 
coming Time than others. 

Their knowledge of futurity was the result of no process 
of reasoning — no weighing of probabilities. It was not the 
product of calculation. It was Sight. And they saw not 
the visible world with the outward eye more distinctly 
than they foresaw what they foretold. Such were the 
ancient prophets. "Abraham," said Jesus, "saw my 
day and was glad." The eye of the body is but a dim 
type of the eye of the prophetic soul. But never in the 
flesh have we had such a manifestation of prophetic 
vision as in Jesus Christ. He has cast all other prophets 
into the shade. His prophetical ability came not by 
education nor by reasoning. It was a special gift of God. 
Still its whole manifestation in the life of Jesus is in 
perfect harmony with nature. It is new, unprecedented, 
but still analogous to all that we see and know of mind, 
of spirit. And thus it reveals upon itself the Divine 
Signature, and proves that it is the inspiration of the 
Father of Spirits. 

Wonderfully endowed as Jesus was, he could not but 



THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY. 213 

be a Prophet. I pray the reader to ponder the case well. 
I would disclose to him new grounds of faith. 

While on earth, as the Gospel of John declares, the 
Son of Man was in Heaven, in that spiritual and eternal 
world where no veils of time circumscribe the view. 
Having the purest moral sense, he saw the moral aspects, 
circumstances, relations, destinies, of the scene in which 
he stood. He knew himself and those around him. 
" I know," said he, " those whom I have chosen." Are 
we not able, therefore, to track, a little way at least, that 
mysterious power of intuition or inspiration — I know not 
its name, certain only that it is divine — by which he fore- 
told his own fate, the fate of his nation, even to many 
minute particulars, the treachery of one of his disciples, 
the cowardice of another, and the desertion of all? His 
foreknowledge was marvellously profound and accurate. 
How does it draw aside the veil which hides from us the 
wonderful powers of the spiritual world, revealing to us 
a spirit commanding disease and death, and penetrating 
into Futurity ! But altogether unprecedented as was the 
prophetical knowledge of Jesus, it was still limited. The 
precise time when that national catastrophe would take 
place which he predicted, he declared he did not know. 
It was known only to God. 

This account of the prophetical power of Jesus will 
be regarded by most, I suppose, as a mere speculation ; 
and, (it grieves me to say it,) a bold speculation. I 
strive to think freely, but I do not covet the reputation of 
boldness. The view I take of the prophetical character 



214 THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY. 

of Christ seems to me the simplest, most natural, and 
unspeakably the most vital, and to take much less for 
granted than the popular theory of the case. This, like 
the popular idea of the miracles, appears to be founded 
upon the unconscious, but most extravagant assumption, 
that the whole order of things, material and immaterial, 
— all the forces and limits of that mighty spirit, which is 
around and within us — are perfectly known]; that God, 
instead of being All in All, sits " outside," having de- 
legated the care of all ordinary matters to another power, 
the order of Nature, and that when anything occurs out 
of the little circle of the experience of man, child of yes- 
terday ! then only is His arm stretched forth. According 
to this popular impression, the prophetic utterances of 
Jesus are not recognised as the natural issues and ex- 
pressions of a mighty spiritual Power working in or 
with his spirit. But as such, we ought, by all sound 
principles of thought, to regard them, so long as the 
spiritual world to which he belonged, and which is all 
around and within us, remains an unexplored deep. 
That deep must not be hidden from us by a theory of the 
Mode of the Divine Existence and Government, con- 
structed out of false, human analogies, and confidently 
reposed in by multitudes, among whom are many wise 
and many great, as if it were the living temple of truth, 
not made with hands ! Rather does it become us to lie 
prostrate with trembling awe and humility, at the gates 
of the unknown world, which stand open within us, 
waiting for I know not what demonstrations of power to 



THE PROPHECIES OF JESUS CHARACTERISTIC. 215 

issue therefrom, and trying, by the light of their coming, 
to penetrate into the unfathomable abyss. An awful 
voice of power and prophecy has been heard in the 
world. We overlook the actual utterer. It is true he 
bore the semblance of a man, and human was the voice 
that spake. But there was in him, as there is in every 
human shape, the transcendent mystery of a spirit, and 
until we have solved that, and ascertained that the 
Almighty is not here, that his kingdom is not within us, 
his throne not in our hearts, we ought not to turn 
elsewhere to track the goings of his power. 

In accordance with the foregoing views I remark, that 
the prophetic declarations of Jesus were among his most 
simple, natural, characteristic utterances. They are not 
announced with any formal peculiarity of tone or man- 
ner. They illustrate him. " Why can I not follow thee 
now 1" said Peter, " I will lay down my life for thy sake." 
11 Wilt thou lay down thy life for my sake?" replied Jesus, 
" verily I say unto thee, the cock shall not crow till thou 
hast disowned me thrice." How, save by the inspiration 
of God, he foresaw Peter's denial of him, I am utterly ig- 
norant. And yet, though there were an immediate influx 
of supernatural light into his mind, I see no reason to de- 
cide that the laws of his spiritual being were interrupted. 
The divine inspiration, so far from overlaying, concurred 
with his native energies and elevated them. All that 
I can see and know of the Man of Nazareth, creates 
the presumption that he was fitted for extraordinary com- 
munications from Heaven. Being such as we all believe 



216 ILLUSTRATIONS 

him to have been, with his piercing spiritual eye, his 
thorough knowledge of Peter's character, his frequent ex- 
perience of Peter's weakness, how is it possible that he 
could have been without some foresight of the conduct of 
Peter in the approaching crisis'? And his unsurpassed 
moral elevation prepared him to be the recipient of I 
know not what higher lights and aids ; and this without 
the least violation of the laws of mind. 

Again. When I consider the great end to which he felt 
himself — his whole being — irrevocably bound, and the nu- 
merous and overpowering manifestations of an opposing 
spirit, which he encountered at every step, it seems to me 
utterly impossible that the result could have been wholly 
hidden from his eyes. He knew his own unalterable pur- 
pose. He knew the temper of the times. The very ex- 
citement he produced revealed the coarse worldly bent of 
the people; that inveterate Jewish hope, which he saw 
he must disappoint at the cost of his life. " Many," says 
John, " believed in his name, when they saw the miracles 
which he did. But Jesus did not commit himself unto 
them, because he knew all men, and needed not that any 
should testify of man : for he knew what was in man." 

Once more. The effect of his ministry — how must it 
have laid bare to him the inmost depths of the Jewish 
character, the Jewish national existence ! He saw that the 
public heart was bound up in the hope of a grand out- 
ward political revolution. The transcendent power he 
was putting forth, though destined ultimately to triumph, 
in its immediate action had no influence, but to excite the 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 217 

worst passions. He must have seen that the nation was 
rushing madly on into a collision with that mighty Ro- 
man domination, by the bare idea of which it was already 
so much chafed, a collision that would grind it to atoms. 
He saw that his country was animated by no principle 
that could control its destiny. If it had been, how was it 
that his mighty voice was powerless ! A short time be- 
fore his death, he approached Jerusalem, attended by a 
vast multitude. They rent the air with triumphant shouts, 
but he was not deceived. He saw that the popular feel- 
ing was excited by the belief that he would prove the 
great national Deliverer. And in this false expectation, he 
read the fate of the nation so clearly, that when he came 
in sight of the city, he wept, exclaiming, ' O that thou 
hadst known, at least in this thy day, the things which 
belong unto thy peace ! But now they are hid from thine 
eyes. For the days will come upon thee, when thine 
enemies will cast a trench about thee, and compass thee 
round, and enclose thee and thy children within thee on 
every side, and will level thee with the ground, and not 
leave in thee one stone upon another; because thou 
knewest not this season of thy visitation.' 

I wish to be distinctly understood. I do not believe 
that any other man could have foreseen what Jesus fore- 
saw. I doubt not that he looked into Futurity by the 
inspiration of God. But then I cannot help thinking that 
we entirely forget the high spiritual eminence at which he 
stood, and his profound moral wisdom, when we deem it 
necessary to suppose that the laws of his spiritual being 

19 



218 THAT JESU3 WAS A PROPHET, 

were suspended in order that he might receive these ex- 
traordinary communications of foreknowledge. The pro- 
phetic spirit in him shows itself in harmony with his whole 
nature. And herein, as I said, we have evidence that it 
was divine. 

That a knowledge of future events was given to Jesus 
Christ somewhat in the way I have described, appears to 
be intimated by his expostulation with the Pharisees. 
1 What !' he does in effect exclaim, ' ye can understand 
the face of the sky and predict the changes of the 
weather. Pretenders ! Can ye not discern the signs of 
the times V 

It is not, however, my chief purpose now to ascertain 
the mode in w T hich the Founder of Christianity became 
possessed of a knowledge of events then hidden behind 
the veil of futurity. My present topic is the fact that he 
did know the future — that he was a prophet, a great 
prophet, however we may conceive of a prophet. I wish 
to show how naturally and incidentally it appears in 
the records of his life that he was possessed of a clear 
and wonderful knowledge of what was to happen. This 
is our present point, the fact and not any theory of the 
fact. And I say I know not which is more remarkable, 
the prophetical gift of Jesus, or the all-unconscious way 
in which his possession of such a gift is made known in 
the Gospels. 

If an individual, wholly unacquainted with the New- 
Testament, were simply told that Jesus Christ is described 
therein as possessing a singular knowledge of future 



SATISFACTORILY SHOWN IN THE GOSPELS. 219 

events, he might naturally enough think and say that he 
was so described by his biographers, merely to magnify 
him. But this suspicion, natural as it may be in the first 
instance, must be felt to be wholly out of place, when we 
examine the records, and see how decisively the absence 
of any such intention is shown. 

Shortly after the public appearance of Jesus, a Roman 
officer sent to him to come and heal one of his household 
suffering severely with palsy, and he had turned his steps 
towards the centurion's house, when the centurion him- 
self met him, and declared that he was not. worthy of so 
great an honour as a visit from Jesus; that it was 
not necessary he should trouble himself to go to the 
house. For if he, the centurion, being himself under 
authority, could yet say to one servant, go, and to ano- 
ther, do this, and be instantly obeyed, surely Jesus had 
only to say the word and the disease would immediately 
depart. The faith of the Gentile filled Jesus with asto- 
nishment ; he turned to those who were with him, and 
declared that he had nowhere, not even among his own 
nation, found such faith ; and then follow the memorable 
words, " And I say unto you, That many shall come from 
the East and West, and shall sit down with Abraham and 
Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of Heaven. But the 
children of the kingdom shall be cast into the darkness 
without." Here we may discern his prophetic inspira- 
tion. Through the faith of the centurion, as through a 
rent in the darkness around him, he gazed into futurity 
and beheld what we all now see. This declaration has 



220 AT AN EARLY PERIOD HE PREDICTED 

now become undisputed history. From all regions 
multitudes have been gathered under the Christian dis- 
pensation, brought into spiritual fellowship with the great 
and good — with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, with the 
righteous of all times, while those, who in the days of 
Jesus deemed themselves the peculiar heirs of the heavenly 
gift, are standing without. In these words I hear the 
voice of a great prophet. By the kingdom of Heaven, it 
is hardly necessary that I should say, is not meant the 
future world of bliss, but the heavenly dominion of truth, 
in other words, the empire of true Religion. It is spoken 
of under the figure of a kingdom, where the patriarchs 
are seated as at a brilliantly lighted festival, while those, 
who refuse to enter and partake of the feast, are repre- 
sented as shut out into the darkness outside. This 
declaration of Jesus, eminently prophetical as it is, won- 
derfully verified as it has been, comes in in the most 
natural manner imaginable, and has a living connexion 
with the passage where it occurs. 

Again. In the sixteenth chapter of Matthew, we have 
the following : " From that time forth began Jesus to show 
unto his disciples, how that he must go to Jerusalem, and 
suffer many things of the elders and chief priests and 
scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the third 
day." Is it suspected that this passage is a mere fabri- 
cation, inserted into the history with a view to invest 
Jesus with the character and reputation of a Prophet? 
Every trace of such a suspicion vanishes when we ob- 
serve the beautiful, because unconscious, consistency of 



HIS PATE TO HIS FOLLOWERS. 221 

this portion of the history with what precedes and what 
follows. " From that time forth," so this passage com- 
mences, " began Jesus to show his disciples how he must 
go to Jerusalem, and suffer and die." From what time 1 
Why, immediately after he had ascertained that his disci- 
ples acknowledged him as the anointed messenger of , 
God. As soon as he found that they explicitly recog- 
nised his authority, he began to disclose to them what 
was about to take place. So that this passage comes in 
just where it ought to come in, in order to harmonize 
with the connexion. But this is not all. The disclosure 
of his approaching sufferings and death on this occasion 
is incidentally connected with a striking and most natural 
illustration of the character of Peter. When Jesus spake 
of what he must suffer, " Peter took him," we are told, 
"and began to rebuke him, saying, ' Be it far from thee, 
Lord: this shall not be done unto thee.' But he turned 
and said unto Peter, 4 Get thee behind me, Satan ; thou 
art a stumbling-block to me: for thou savourest not the 
things that be of God, but those that be of men.' " What ! 
Is this Peter — the Rock, as Jesus a moment before 
named him, saying, that upon this Rock he would build 
his church, and the gates of Hell should not prevail 
against it — is this the man who is now addressed in the 
severest language of reproof, and pronounced a stum- 
bling-block, a rock of offence? 

O, tell me not there has been any garbling — any 
forgery here ! If this portion of the history had not its 
deep foundations in truth and nature, — if it were a fic- 
19* 



222 THE PREDICTION INSEPARABLY CONNECTED 

tion, its author would never have dreamed of venturing 
apparently so gross an inconsistency, or, if he had, he 
would not have permitted it to go unexplained. In 
reality, there is here not only no inconsistency, but the 
most exquisite keeping, as I proceed to show. 

Shortly before, as we read in the same chapter, Jesus 
had inquired of his disciples what the people thought of 
him — whom they supposed him to be. They replied, 
" Some say that thou art John the Baptist, some Elias, and 
others Jeremiah, or one of the old prophets." He then 
put the question directly to the disciples themselves, 
" Whom do you think me to be ?" Peter, with his 
characteristic forwardness, answers without hesitation, 
"Thou art the Anointed, the Son of the living God." 
It disclosed great openness to the truth in Peter, to have 
come so speedily and confidently to the conviction, that 
in the humble man of Nazareth he beheld the long-looked- 
for, magnificent Messiah. There was nothing in the ex- 
ternal appearance of Jesus which proved him to be that 
illustrious personage, but much to the contrary. Since 
Peter then recognised him as the Christ, it could only 
have been through the moral, spiritual credentials which 
he gave in his beneficent words and works. Accordingly, 
Jesus breaks forth in blessing upon Peter, exclaiming, 
11 Blessed art thou, Simon, son of Jonas,* for flesh and 

* " Simon, son of Jonas." The intense fervour with which this 
benediction was uttered, is incidentally and strikingly displayed in 
this mode of address. How naturally, when a friend communicates 
any unexpected sentiment or intelligence, do we express our surprise 



WITH AN ILLUSTRATION OF PETER'S CHARACTER. 223 

blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father who 
is in Heaven !" i. e. "it is not from men, or from any- 
earthly source, that thou hast discovered me to be the 
Messiah. It has been revealed unto thee by that true 
spirit in thine own soul, which is the Spirit of God." 
How naturally must the warm commendation of Jesus 
have tended to elate the ardent mind of Peter ! This it 
was, we perceive, that emboldened him to contradict and 
rebuke Jesus, when the latter immediately afterwards 
proceeded to speak of his sufferings. Although he ac- 
knowledged Jesus to be the Christ, he was not at all pre- 
pared to believe that the Christ could suffer indignity and 
violence. Therefore he sought to silence Jesus, saying, 
" Be it far from thee, Lord, this shall not be done unto 
thee," and so drew upon himself that severe rebuke, 
M Away ! thou enemy ! Thou art a stumbling-block to 
me, for thou savourest not the things that be of God, but 
the things that be of men." 

Thus we find that the prediction of his sufferings and 
death, which Jesus uttered on this occasion, is vitally con- 
nected with a portion of the history bearing the deep and 
living impress of truth, and it is impossible to doubt that 
he foretold his own fate to his disciples at this time. 

But it is not from those passages alone in which he 
expressly predicts his own death, natural and consistent 
as they are, that we gather the most decisive evidences 

in a similar way, uttering the whole name of our friend, with fervent 
emphasis ! 



224 M CAN YE DRINK OF THE CUP THAT I SHALL DRINK OP !" 

of his knowledge of the future. Most incidentally, and 
therefore all the more impressively, does it on many occa- 
sions appear that he was perfectly aware of what awaited 
him, and that he saw far and clearly into the depths of 
futurity. 

Once two of his disciples, confident that he was about 
to establish a glorious worldly empire, induced their 
mother to solicit from him the favour that they, her two 
sons, might sit, the one on his right hand and the other 
on his left, when he should commence his triumphant 
reign. " Can ye drink of the cup," he instantly replies, 
" which I shall drink of, and be baptized with the baptism 
that I am baptized with ?" How fully is the knowledge 
of his own sufferings here revealed in the unconscious- 
ness with which they are taken for granted ! The two 
brethren little dreamed what the nature of that distinction 
was which they sought, or how it was to be obtained ; 
and, in the unthinking simplicity of their hearts, they an- 
swer that they are able to do whatever he was about to 
do. Their Master observes, in return, " Yes, ye shall 
drink of the same bitter cup, and pass through the same 
fiery baptism, but to sit on my right and on my left, — to 
share so fully in the power and distinction thus to be ob- 
tained, I can give only to those for whom it shall here- 
after be found to be prepared in the providence of God." 

How undesignedly is the knowledge which Jesus had 
of his own death laid bare to us in that beautiful incident 
which took place at Bethany ! Mary, the sister of Laza- 
rus, came and, standing over him, poured upon his head 



" BUT ME YE HATE NOT ALWAYS." 225 

an alabaster box of very precious ointment, an act ac- 
cording with the customs of the times, that authorized the 
free use of precious perfumes and ointments upon occa- 
sions of hospitality, and whereby Mary gave expression 
to her deep personal reverence for Jesus. Some present 
w r ere, or pretended to be, shocked at her extravagance, 
and exclaimed, " Why is this waste ! This ointment 
might have been sold for much and given to the poor." 
But Jesus said, " Why trouble ye the woman 3 She has 
performed an appropriate office for me. Ye have the poor 
always with you, but me ye have not always. In that 
she hath poured this ointment on my person, she has done 
it for my burial — to embalm me." I have no idea that 
Mary had any thought of his death and burial, or that 
Jesus meant to imply that she had. But this was simply 
the way in which he interpreted her act. How delicate 
and touching his allusion to the approaching termination 
of his career ! " But me ye have not always." How na- 
turally is the state of his mind revealed to us ! How 
clearly do we see that he was fully possessed with a 
knowledge of his impending fate ! When the mind is 
deeply engrossed with any subject, it readily discovers 
or creates a connexion between everything that occurs 
and the absorbing topic of its thoughts. So was it with 
Jesus. Impressed with the conviction of his awful fate, 
so soon to be consummated, he received that expression 
of Mary's respect, the outpouring of the costly ointment, 
as a funeral office. To him it had the odour of death and 
of the tomb. Had he been actually dead, no one would 



226 THE FOREKNOWLEDGE OF JESUS SHOWN 

have objected to the use made of the ointment which now 
descended upon his person, for the customs of the day- 
sanctioned a liberal expense of spices and perfumes upon 
the dead. So near and so certain was his death to 
Jesus, that he speaks of himself as already dead, and re- 
presents this token of Mary's homage as a funeral office. 
Indeed, so much was his mind impressed with the coinci- 
dence between this act of Mary's, and the near approach 
of his death, that he declared in the full spirit of prophecy, 
that wherever the history of his life should be told, this 
incident should be related also. And so in fact it has 
happened. The prophecy, which he needed no special 
inspiration to utter, has been fulfilled. " The odour of 
that ointment," as it has well been said, " was not con- 
fined to that lowly Jewish dwelling. It has filled the 
world." 

In a like incidental manner, the fact that Jesus knew 
he was to die, and that he was also aware of the manner 
in which he was to suffer, is revealed in the very form of 
that event upon which the commemorative service of the 
Lord's Supper is founded. When seated at table with 
his personal friends, a short time before he was seized by 
his enemies, he broke bread and distributed it among 
those present, as a symbol of his body soon to be broken, 
and poured out wine and gave it to them as a like sym- 
bol of his blood. I do not believe, and I deem it of the 
first importance to a just appreciation of this rite to con- 
sider it, I do not believe that Jesus was conscious on this 
occasion of having formed a deliberate design to establish 



IN THE FORM OF THE LORD'S SUPPER. 227 

a particular service or institution. He spoke and acted, 
I think, from the simple and natural impulse of a touch- 
ing sensibility. With his mind filled with the images of 
death and suffering, we have seen how naturally he asso- 
ciated the ointment which Mary poured upon his person 
with his embalming. So when he was seated for the last 
time with his disciples, the same state of mind — the same 
principle of association led him to see in the broken bread, 
and in the flowing wine, the symbols and mementos of 
his own body and blood. Thus hallowed by the deep 
sensibility of Jesus, shall they not be everlasting memen- 
tos ! Shall not our hearts melt with answering tender- 
ness, and can we disown or cancel the vows of gratitude 
and remembrance which Nature herself prompts ?* 
We cannot fail to perceive here how incidentally his 

* When I contemplate Jesus breaking the bread, and pouring out 
the wine, in commemoration of himself, I cannot conceive of him as 
deliberately instituting a positive rite. It is his heart that seems to 
me to be appealing to the universal human heart, and therefore this 
observance secures my cordial regard. When it is thus considered 
as originated, not so much by the understanding as the affections of 
Jesus, a service of commemoration, having him for its special object, 
appears to be among the most significant and affecting of our reli- 
gious institutions, and to have an imperishable basis in the heart. It 
is too common to represent the Lord's Supper as a mere means of 
improvement. It is a means, a great means, but only because it is 
a great end. He who eats and drinks worthily at the Lord's table, 
eats and drinks not for his own sake, but for Christ's, and therefore 
he receives divine nourishment. 



228 HIS WHOLE LIFE, THE LIFE OF A PROPHET. 

prophetic knowledge is revealed. It is not explicitly and 
purposely disclosed. It appears only by implication. 
And this is the most satisfactory way possible. 

But we have not by any means fathomed the depth of 
the miracle ; we have caught but a glimpse of the real 
greatness of the prophetical character of Jesus, when we 
have seen simply that he foreknew his own death. He 
possessed a far deeper knowledge still. Everywhere 
throughout the histories of his life, we are given to under- 
stand, naturally, undesignedly, that he cherished a calm 
and perfect confidence in his own ultimate success. He 
saw and knew that Futurity was his. To what is this 
unparalleled faith attributable but to the profoundest pro- 
phetical inspiration] Here we have the fact of a young 
man, in a dark and corrupt age, of obscure birth, in the 
bosom of a bigoted nation, separated from all other na- 
tions by a great gulf of political and religious hatred, and 
on the brink of ruin — a young man without education or 
wealth, backed by no imperial warrant, not only unas- 
sisted by the spirit of the nation, and the age in which he 
appeared, but directly and vehemently opposed by the 
prevailing sentiments of the day, and the whole temper of 
his countrymen — we have, I say, the undisputed fact of 
an individual thus situated, unknown, friendless, power- 
less, and without any traces of human philosophy about 
him, undertaking a work of revolution, the most noble 
and comprehensive, a work tending to nothing short of 
the thorough illumination and improvement of the whole 



HE LIVED FOR FUTURITY. 229 

race of man, a purpose of creating the world over again, 
and converting its savage tribes into beings dignified by- 
knowledge, refined and blest by affection and kindness. 
I say nothing of the wonder that such a thought should 
have been entertained at such a time, and under such cir- 
cumstances, although the bare conception of the thing, 
the mere expression of belief in its practicability, might 
well have been recorded among the inspired sayings of 
human wisdom, reflecting immortal honour upon any 
one who should have uttered it. But the circumstance 
that absorbs our attention is the quiet confidence, 
all so unobtrusively evinced, with which Jesus Christ 
lived and spoke and died in accordance with an aim so 
vast, that we should be almost ready to pronounce it chi- 
merical, had not the lapse of ages begun to furnish some 
testimony to the possibility of its accomplishment. The 
great revolutions, commenced by other men, have in the 
course of a century or two exceeded in their actual re- 
sults all that was contemplated by their original movers, 
spreading farther and going deeper than their authors 
dreamed. But not so is it with Christianity. The world 
has not yet realised the purpose of its Founder, although 
it has so nearly approximated it, that we cannot but feel 
that he was inspired with a mysterious and far-reaching 
wisdom. 

The work which he began and so steadily pursued is 
no less astonishing for the originality of its methods, than 
for the comprehensiveness of its objects. Under the 
greatest disadvantages, disregarding all ordinary means 

20 



230 HIS FAITH IN THE FUTURE, 

of success, committing nothing to writing, elaborating" 
no system, and with a world, in all the pride of its phi- 
losophy and all the glare of its power, arrayed against 
him, he proceeded to fulfil his aim with a confidence as 
sublime for its calmness, as it was mysterious for its 
strength. If every human hand had been extended to 
aid him, and every human heart sealed to his service, he 
could scarcely have spoken and acted with a more un- 
faltering assurance that his labour would not be in vain, 
that the objects at which he aimed must be fulfilled. He 
went forth on his lonely and untried path, as if he were 
placed upon a mountain top, and saw his success written 
out upon the world lying at his feet ; as if every word 
that he uttered, instead of being caught up and per- 
verted and turned against him as it was, were a spell, 
operating with magical rapidity and resistless power. 
Had his career been one unbroken triumph, he could not 
have exhibited a more settled conviction of ultimate 
success. Among a people burning with the fiercest pas- 
sions, with the impatient hope of national dominion, he 
announced an empire whose glory is righteousness, 
whose laws are peace and love. In an age when reli- 
gious worship was, in most places, scarcely better than i 
pageant, and religion was a thing of costly temples and 
long processions and glittering rites, he taught that the 
object of worship is a pure spirit, and that the service of 
God consists not so much in calling on his name, as in 
doing his daily will. Upon a corrupt and licentious 
world, he inculcated a purity of mind with which a look 



ONE OF HIS MOST STRIKING TRAITS. 231 

tending to sin is inconsistent. At a time when military 
prowess was the first of virtues, and heroes and con- 
querors were the world's saints, he exhibited a new 
model of greatness, revealing man's highest honour in 
humility, in forgiveness of injuries, and in sacredly ab- 
staining from all violence. In opposition to superstitious 
observances and artificial duties, he vindicated the simple 
and despised laws of nature; teaching that to relieve a 
fellow-creature is more holy than to observe sabbaths, 
and that to a child the comfort of a parent should be more 
sacred than the treasuries of temples. His own nation 
was prostrate, and writhing under the oppression of 
Rome ; and, although he raised no banner and mustered 
no armies, yet he uniformly asserted that a kingdom was 
to be established into which multitudes from the four 
quarters of the earth should be gathered. Thus he lived, 
wrought, and died, never deserted by that faith in the 
future, which is one of the most imposing, most myste- 
rious traits of his character. 

But the wonder is not even yet exhausted. He not 
only foresaw his own death, and the ultimate triumph of 
his religion, he saw so clearly into Futurity that he dis- 
cerned the connexion between these two events. It was 
not a blind assurance of success that he cherished. He 
knew that he should soon be put to death, under circum- 
stances the most painful and ignominious ; that he should 
die misrepresented by the most, fully understood by 
none. And he felt that he should finally triumph, not- 
withstanding these circumstances apparently so fatal to 



232 HE NOT ONLY FORESAW, HE INTERPRETED 

every hope of success, aye, and in consequence of these 
very circumstances. He not only perceived that his 
death would not obstruct, he saw that it would directly 
and most gloriously aid the progress of truth. He fore- 
knew his own fate, and what is far more astonishing, he 
understood and interpreted it. He discerned its end and 
issue. Here, I say, he evinced a depth of prophetic 
power altogether without precedent. " If I be lifted up," 
that is, on the cross, " I will draw all men unto me." 
Again, in that answer to the two brethren who wished to 
sit on his right hand and on his left in his kingdom, to 
which I have already referred ; how clearly does he show 
that he understood the purport and result of the suffer- 
ings he was about to endure ! " Can ye drink of the cup 
that I shall drink of, and be baptized with the baptism 
that I am baptized with ?" How plainly does this lan- 
guage prove that the kingdom he was thinking of-— the 
power which he sought, was a power to be gained over 
the affections of mankind, over their deepest sympathies, 
by the patient, voluntary endurance of suffering in their 
behalf! In immediate connexion with this passage, he 
gives that fine definition of true greatness, a definition to 
whose perfect truth, the progress of government and 
society has borne most expressive testimony — " He who 
would be greatest among you, let him be your servant." 
To reign rhost gloriously over men, we must be ready to 
serve them even to the loss of every earthly blessing — of 
life itself. Consecrating his whole being to the service of 
man, prepared to pour out his blood like water in the 



HIS DEATH AS THE SEAL OF HIS SUCCESS. 233 

cause of Truth, he saw with the clearest prophetic 
vision, that a glorious and everlasting dominion must be 
his. He trusted not, he needed not to trust to perishing 
paper and parchment to perpetuate his name and influence 
in the world, for he was writing out his laws upon the 
living tables of the heart, in his own life-blood. He knew 
that by drinking the bitter cup of death — by submitting 
to that fearful baptism, he was immortalizing his power ; 
he was making an appeal to the sympathies of the human 
soul, which could not be in vain. Those steps of suffer- 
ing, which to all other eyes seemed to lead down into 
utter darkness, in his illuminated vision were seen to be 
a glorified ascent to the right hand of Eternal Power. 

Again. Listen to that most remarkable language of 
his upon the occasion of his last visit to Jerusalem, shortly 
before his death. " The hour is come that the son of man 
should be glorified. Verily, verily, I say unto you, except 
a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth 
alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." To 
those who heard these words they could scarcely have 
been intelligible. And yet we may perceive a deep and 
natural meaning here. The glory with which his mind 
was engrossed was the pure moral glory of an entire self 
sacrifice. It was as evidently necessary in his view that 
he should suffer and die as he was about to do, as that 
the seed should be buried in the earth and undergo that 
natural, familiar, but mysterious change by which it is 
converted into a fruit-bearing plant. The process of 
vegetation was not more natural to his mind, than the 
20* 



234 JESUS, THE FIRST OF PROPHETS. 

dark and painful method by which he was to be glorified, 
and the triumph of his religion — the establishment of his 
kingdom consummated. 

Once more. Let me remind you of that remarkable 
declaration of his, uttered just after Judas had left him, 
to go and execute his traitorous purpose. The depar- 
ture of Judas upon this base errand naturally enough 
caused Jesus to feel most vividly that the great crisis 
was at hand, that in a very little while his fate would be 
fulfilled. Does he shrink at the dark prospect thus 
brought distinctly before him ? Oh no ! he beholds in it 
only the manifestation of his glory and the glory of God. 
" Now is the Son of man glorified," he exclaims, "and God 
is glorified in him." The elevation of his mind and his 
language could not have been more remarkable, if a 
visible spectacle of the wide spread of his religion had at 
that moment been accorded him. This is to me the 
stupendous wonder. He not only knew that he must 
die, but it is shown beyond all doubt that he knew his 
death would be the instrument of his signal success, that 
by dying as he was about to die he would be glorified as 
no other ever had been, and God would be glorified in him. 
Here is a depth and extent of inspiration to which the 
whole world can bring no parallel. This it is that attests 
him as the first and greatest of Prophets. And then too 
how astonishing is it that, possessing this extraordinary 
knowledge, he was not elated by it, nor the balance 
of his mind in the slightest degree disturbed. He was 
still the most patient, the meekest of beings. There is 



THE MAGNANIMITY OF JESUS. 235 

nothing excited, nothing hurried, nothing incoherent in 
his manner. The Present was not lost sight of in the 
near and familiar view of the vast Future. He was still 
the most practical of teachers. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE MAGNANIMITY OF JESUS. 

" To be tremblingly alive to gentle impressions, and yet to be able 
to preserve, when the prosecution of a design requires it, an immove- 
able heart, amidst the most imperious causes of subduing emotion, is 
perhaps not an impossible constitution of mind, but it must be the 
rarest endowment of humanity." — Foster — Essays. 

I beg leave here to admonish the reader, that I do not 
aim at anything like completeness in the representation I 
have undertaken of the character of Jesus Christ. To 
prove the honesty of this disavowal, it is not necessary 
that I should indulge in any of those expressions of self- 
disparagement, by which one so seldom convinces others, 
and so often deceives himself. It is enough to say that 
since, after the lapse of eighteen hundred years, the moral 
significance of the life of Jesus remains unexhausted, I do 
not believe that it is now to be fathomed at a glance, even 



236 IMPORTANCE OF DISCRIMINATION 

by the best and wisest. Nay, after a period of equal 
length a thousand times told, I am persuaded the trea- 
sures of moral life, truth, and beauty, hidden in Jesus 
Christ, will remain absolutely inexhaustible. The least 
of the things of God in the humblest department of his 
universe presents an infinite variety of aspects, and opens 
an unfathomable depth for contemplation. It is not there- 
fore to be for a moment supposed that, within any defi- 
nite space, the character of Jesus will be so understood 
and appreciated, that little will remain to be told of it. 

It would be easy enough to enumerate the virtues, and 
ascribe them all to him in a mass; to heap upon him 
the phraseology of panegyric, and then fancy that we 
have completed his portrait. But the effect of his cha- 
racter has been injured by nothing, scarcely, so much as 
by the loose and indiscriminate manner in which it has 
been described. It has been divested of all vitality, by 
the general and unqualified language of praise, and con- 
verted into a dim and lifeless abstraction, a feeble per- 
sonification of Virtue. It seems to have been thought 
that extravagance is impossible when Jesus Christ is the 
theme. And yet it may almost be questioned, whether 
those who have lavished upon him the loftiest terms of 
commendation, going the length of literally deifying him, 
have even caught a glimpse of his real greatness. It may 
be — I have no doubt that it is — beyond the power of lan- 
guage to do him justice. Still we are extravagant when 
we speak of him in terms that exceed our own distinct 
impressions, and allow ourselves to deal in vague gene- 



IN PORTRAYING HIS CHARACTER. 237 

ralities ; and the effect cannot but be injurious. It is very- 
difficult, I know, to avoid falling into an exaggerated tone, 
when the heart has been touched in the slightest degree 
by pure moral beauty. I cannot flatter myself that I have 
wholly escaped this difficulty, I can only say that I en- 
deavour anxiously to guard against it, and to justify the 
expressions of my reverence for Jesus by numerous and 
decisive facts, being chiefly desirous to see clearly so far 
as I see, and recognising discrimination as of the first 
importance. 

I have entitled this chapter, ' The Magnanimity of 
Jesus.' The true greatness of his mind has already been 
shown in his use of the extraordinary gifts with which he 
was endowed, and in the calm and steady confidence 
with which he cherished a lofty purpose. I wish to pur- 
sue the illustration of this quality, because it is so uni- 
formly disclosed through the whole tenour of these nar- 
ratives of his life. In all the relations in which he is 
placed — under all the circumstances detailed, the same 
noble being appears, and, on the part of the historians, all 
is related quietly, unostentatiously, unconsciously. 

For the most expressive manifestations of the mental 
and moral greatness of Jesus, I do not refer to those pre- 
cepts of his, in which he inculcates universal charity and 
benevolence, the forgiveness of injuries and the overcom- 
ing of evil with good. The verbal lessons which he gave 
of these virtues are doubtless emphatic and eloquent. Still 
in no case are the words of an individual, taken by them- 
selves, a decisive index of his spirit. It is possible to ex- 



238 " FATHER ! FORGIVE THEM ! 

press the most comprehensive benevolence, and at the 
same time to be enslaved by the narrowest prejudices. 
Numerous enough are those who are happily described 
by the author of the History of Enthusiasm as " closet- 
philanthropists, dreaming of impracticable reforms and 
grudging the cost of effective relief." I do not therefore 
appeal to the precepts of Christ, clear and beautiful as 
they are, to demonstrate the quality of his spirit. 

In that prayer which burst from his heart amidst the 
agonies of crucifixion, what a greatness of soul is reveal- 
ed ! " Father ! forgive them, for they know not what they 
do !" Oftentimes as this passage has been commented 
upon, I have sometimes thought that it has never been 
fully felt. The deep, natural, inextinguishable generosity 
of feeling which dictated it, appears to me to be enfeebled 
in the general apprehension, through the absence of a dis- 
tinct impression of the persons for whom Jesus uttered 
this prayer. He is commonly supposed to have made 
this generous plea, in behalf of the whole multitude as- 
sembled around him, or of the Jews in particular. I will 
not deny that it was so. Still, when I attempt to picture 
the circumstances of that terrible occasion, I cannot feel 
that it is altogether a fanciful conjecture, especially since 
the connexion does not discountenance it,* to imagine 
that this prayer was uttered at the moment when the Ro- 
man soldiers were nailing Jesus to the bitter cross ; and 

* Sec Luke xxiii. 33, 34. 



FOR THEY KNOW NOT WHAT THEY DO !" 239 

that it was under the torture which this operation caused, 
and with immediate reference to those savage execu- 
tioners, as ignorant as they were cruel, that the sufferer 
prayed. I do not mean to imply that any present were ex- 
cepted in his mind from this plea. But the incident re- 
ceives new point and power in my view, when I consider 
this sublime ejaculation as bursting from his inmost soul, 
under peculiar and intense agony, and as referring im- 
mediately to those by whom this agony was inflicted. O 
what a heart was that upon which the acutest suffering 
had no effect, but to cause it to feel, and pray, and plead 
for those by whom the suffering was caused ! Not in cor- 
roding bitterness, but in cleansing, healing streams of 
mercy, did the sensibility of that heart flow out over the 
very hands which were seeking to crush it, and were 
already stained with its blood ! " Forgive them for they 
know not what they do !" They must have been forgiven. 
If "the effectual fervent prayer of the righteous man 
availeth much," this, the divinest prayer that God ever 
heard, 

"Hymn'd by archangels when they sing of Mercy," 

could not have ascended in vain. At some period of 
their existence in this state of being, or in another, the true 
knowledge of Jesus, as I cannot but believe, must dawn 
upon the minds of those savage men, and with that know- 
ledge must come the remembrance of his unparalleled 
generosity, to dissolve their hearts in a saving, though 
bitter repentance, were those hearts harder than adamant. 



240 THE LIBERALITY OF JESUS 

Thus we may see how the prayer of the Crucified se- 
cured its own fulfilment. 

I have commented upon this passage first, because it 
affords the most obvious and impressive instance of that 
trait of the character of Christ, upon which I am now re- 
marking. 

Between the Jews and the Samaritans, there subsisted 
a spirit of the fiercest animosity. They agreed in acknow- 
ledging the authority of the Mosaic iaw, but they dif- 
fered about the spot upon which the public religious 
ceremonies and services of their faith were to be ob- 
served ; the Jews insisting that Jerusalem was the place 
to which the followers of Moses should resort to worship, 
while the Samaritans were equally zealous for their con- 
secrated mount Gerizim. This comparatively insignifi- 
cant difference became a peculiar fountain of bitterness. 
It is the nature of religious hatred, as all experience tes- 
tifies, to rage the most furiously between those sects that 
approach the nearest to each other, without entirely 
coalescing. It would seem that bigotiy grows fiercer as 
its food is diminished. So at least it was in the case of 
the Jews and the Samaritans. They looked upon each 
other with the greatest dislike. It is interesting there- 
fore to observe how Jesus is represented as bearing him- 
self in this state of things. Here we have new and 
natural illustrations of the characteristic elevation of his 
mind. It was to a woman of Samaria, who, perceiving 
that he was no common person, asked his opinion con- 



TOWARDS THE SAMARITANS. 241 

cerning the true place for public worship, the ever-vexed 
point of dispute between her countrymen and the Jews, 
that he announced the only acceptable worship to be the 
act and service of the spirit. Once when' he was going 
through Samaria, the Samaritans would not receive him, 
because it appeared that he was going to Jerusalem, 
passing by their consecrated mount. His disciples, en- 
raged at the inhospitality of the Samaritans, wished to 
call down fire from Heaven upon them. " Ye know not," 
said Jesus, " what manner of spirit ye are of. The Son 
of man came not to destroy men's lives, but to save 
them." This incident needs no comment. On one oc- 
casion a Jewish teacher came to Jesus proposing the 
great question — " What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" 
In reply Jesus asked, " What is written in the Law? how 
readest thou V The teacher replied, "Thou shalt love 
the Lord thy God with all thy soul and with all thy 
strength, and thy neighbour as thyself." To this Jesus 
rejoined, " Thou hast answered right. This do and thou 
shalt live." But the teacher of the Law, desirous of justi- 
fying himself, and showing that the question he had put 
to Jesus was not so easily settled, asked in return, 
" Who is my neighbour V In answer to this query, we 
have the parable of the good Samaritan, as it is called, — 
the story of a man going from Jerusalem to Jericho, 
and falling among thieves, and left by them half dead. 
A priest and a Levite pass by him without rendering him 
any assistance. But a Samaritan coming that way 
stops and binds up his wounds, and carries him to the 
21 



242 THE LIBERALITY OF JESUS 

nearest inn, and provides for his entire relief. Jesus con- 
cluded this parable by asking the teacher of Law which 
of these three was neighbour to him — the man from 
Jerusalem, the Jew — who had fallen among thieves. The 
reply of the teacher is, "He that showed mercy on him." 
Thus was he forced to confess that the Samaritan was 
neighbour to the Jew ; and if so, then the relation was 
reciprocal, and it became the Jewish teacher to regard 
the Samaritan as his neighbour, the despised, hated 
Samaritan. How strikingly is the largeness of the mind 
of Jesus, his superiority to Jewish prejudices, revealed in 
this passage — in the bare idea of representing Jews and 
Samaritans as neighbours ! When Jesus asked the Jewish 
teacher which was neighbour to him who fell among thieves, 
he replied, " He that showed mercy on him." I perceive 
or fancy I perceive here, an incidental illustration of 
the prejudice of the Jew. He did not care, in answer to 
the question of Jesus, to say outright " the Samaritan." 
It went against his pride to utter that despised name — to 
acknowledge one bearing that name as his neighbour. 
So he compounds with his pride, and adopts, very natu- 
rally, a circumlocution, avoiding the mention of the 
Samaritan under that title, and replying, u He that 
showed mercy on him." It was obviously the intention 
of Jesus to make him confess that the Samaritan was his 
neighbour. The appeal was absolutely irresistible, and 
although it was but little that he could do, yet he did what 
he could to save his own pride. 

The fact that Jesus was on one occasion stigmatized 



TOWARDS THE SAMARITANS. 243 

as a Samaritan, would seem to be a tribute to his libe- 
rality ; to his freedom from the bigotry with which his 
countrymen regarded the inhabitants of Samaria. I 
want no more expressive evidence of the vitality and 
comprehensiveness of the philanthropy of Jesus, than 
the way in which he is described as conducting towards 
those against whom the bitterest prejudices were cherish- 
ed. That he recognised none of the artificial distinctions 
which control and contract human affections, I gather 
most decisively, not from those precepts of his which 
enjoin universal love, immortal as they are, but from 
his disregard of those divisions which existed imme- 
diately around him. It is easy enough, we know, to 
love distant and barbarous nations, or to cherish an in- 
terest in a remote posterity, and at the same time to 
foster a thousand narrow feelings towards those who 
are nearest to us. This is, unhappily, so much the cha- 
racter of the benevolence that we witness in modern 
times, that it is not until I see, as may be seen clearly, 
how free the author of Christianity was from the bigotry 
which infected his nation and his time, that his precepts 
become to me genuine and authentic manifestations of 
his spirit. Let it only appear that he regarded those 
whom his countrymen most vehemently hated and de- 
nounced, the Samaritans,. — let it be seen that he recog- 
nised them as men, as brethren, as objects for human 
sympathy and respect, then do I see in him the spirit of 
universal love. Then do I know by the most indubitable 
tokens, that his charity knew no artificial bounds ; that it 



244 NO APPEARANCE OF SYSTEM 

was a healthy and vigorous spirit flowing in every natu- 
ral channel. 

We talk about the plan of Christianity — the Christian 
scheme or system, as if its author had pursued the 
great work in which he was engaged, with a formal and 
conscious recognition of a previously arranged plan. 
It is scarcely necessary to say that the Christian records 
produce no impression of this sort. Nothing can ap- 
pear more unsystematic and immethodical than the 
whole proceeding of Jesus. Although general principles 
are directly deducible from the language which he ut- 
tered, and although his language is itself not infre- 
quently general in its form, yet, as I have had occasion 
more than once to observe, he almost always spoke and 
acted with direct reference to local and particular cir- 
cumstances. Even when he expressed himself in uni- 
versal terms, and appeared to be enunciating abstract 
principles, there is reason to believe that he was moved 
to speak by some special instance, to which his language 
is to be particularly applied. His instructions were per- 
vadingly unpremeditated and occasional. No inference 
however, unfavourable to the comprehensiveness of his 
spirit, is to be drawn from the absence of all traces of 
system in his ministry. For although this characteristic 
of the Founder of Christianity may at first sight appear 
to intimate that he taught and laboured without law, 
order, or purpose, it really results from the very clearness 
and vastness of his aim. When in any department, 



IN THE PROCEEDING OF JESUS. 245 

whether of art, literature, politics or religion, an individual 
formally announces a theory, and keeps it industriously 
in sight, there is always produced the impression of some- 
thing denned, circumscribed, narrow. Whereas the 
highest achievements of man — the productions of genius, 
always appear, at first sight, erratic and lawless. But 
when elosely studied, they exhibit the greatest perfec- 
tion of purpose, illustrate the most comprehensive laws 
of Nature, and show that either consciously or un- 
consciously there has been the finest observance of 
method. The wildness of genius, as it has been termed, 
has turned out to be the most consistent wisdom. 
What has appeared to be a sudden impulse, has in the 
end tended to demonstrate the most consummate policy. 
" Where the true poet seems most to recede from 
humanity, he will be found the truest to it. From be- 
yond the scope of Nature if he summon possible exist- 
ences, he subjugates them to the law of her consistency. 
He is beautifully loyal to that sovereign directress even 
when he appears most to betray and desert her." 

To prove the largeness of purpose by which he was 
actuated by whom our divine Religion was first taught, 
it is not necessary, then, to show that he wrougnt with 
particular and laborious regard to a plan formally devised 
and set forth with logical precision. If there were any 
appearance of this kind, it would be impossible to avoid 
an impression of narrowness, let the terms in which his 
system is announced be ever so general and unqualified. 
We should see the difference and the contrast between a 
21* 



246 HIS METHOD IN UNISON WITH NATURE. 

plan thus conceived and followed and " the infinite com- 
plexities of real life," between his system and the vast 
system of nature, and an air of artificialness would be 
more or less discernible in the former. The very idea of 
a scheme, as I have said, implies something mapped out 
and bounded. But as the case actually stands, we see no 
traces of system in the ministry of Jesus ; to the ever- 
changing details and relations of life, to the unnumbered 
occasions of Providence, he adjusted himself, his words 
and works, without a moment's hesitation, and with the 
most admirable effect. The coincidence therefore, be- 
tween the spirit or aim by which he was actuated, and 
the grand laws and principles of Life and of Providence, 
becomes an impressive attestation to the comprehensive- 
ness of his purpose. It shows that his life and ministry 
were conducted upon a method so perfectly identical with 
the grand method of Nature and reality, that he was 
scarcely conscious of it. He laid down no formal and 
elaborate plan of benevolence, but his whole being lived, 
moved, and wrought, in a sphere of universal love. This 
was his element, in wiiich his affections breathed and 
flourished with that silent and unconscious ease which 
accompanies all true vitality and health. It is my object 
in these remarks to show what an evidence we have of 
the real greatness of Jesus, of the grandeur and infini- 
tude of his ruling spirit, in the remarkable absence of all 
traces of a laboriously constructed plan in the history of 
his ministry. His purpose is nowhere minutely defined 
nor elaborately developed ; not because he had no definite 



HIS FREEDOM FROM PARTY SPIRIT. 247 

purpose, but because it exceeded the power of the under- 
standing to comprehend, and the resources of language 
to describe it. Like the great system of Nature, the 
significance of the Jife of Jesus may be partially pene- 
trated, but it cannot be completely set forth in words. It 
is not the less interesting and influential, but infinitely 
the more so, because it cannot be adequately understood 
and described. It is felt only the more powerfully by the 
heart. 

The moral greatness of Jesus is shown in his singular 
freedom from that sectarian or party spirit which has 
been in all times the crying sin of his followers. He stood 
alone, and must, on this account, have been not a little 
desirous of securing the countenance and encouragement 
of others. The genius of Christianity, as I have already 
remarked, shows us that its author must have been pos- 
sessed of great sensibility, and capable of the deepest sym- 
pathy and affection. Christianity is eminent for the ten- 
derness of its spirit, and thus it discloses the character of 
its Founder. To him therefore human co-operation must 
have been peculiarly dear, and if he had attached an undue 
value to human aid, it would not have been surprising. 
But the strong humanity of his nature never betrayed 
him into weakness, never broke in upon that uncompro- 
mising spirit with which he scrutinized the claims of all 
those who sought to be his disciples. While he publicly 
announced himself to the world as its Leader and Light, 
there are the most expressive evidences that he never 



248 



HE EVINCES NO UNDUE SOLICITUDE 



tried to form a party. I cannot express the sense I have 
of the greatness of his character in this respect. Let me 
refer to one or two instances illustrative of this point. 

On a certain occasion, when he was passing along the 
highway, attended by an immense concourse of people, 
he turned and said to them, " If any man will come after 
me, let him take up his cross and follow me." I have 
briefly alluded to this incident before, but to perceive the 
deep significance of these words, let the reader call up 
before his imagination the circumstances under which 
they were uttered. Look at that strange and wonderful 
peasant of Nazareth, surrounded by that excited Jewish 
throng. Listen to the tread of innumerable feet. Observe 
those countenances kindling with intense expectation, and 
reaching forwards to catch a glimpse of the individual 
upon whom the public attention was now beginning to 
be fixed as the promised King, the heaven-sent Deliverer 
of the nation. How do the hearts of that crowd beat 
quickly with hope, waiting only for a signal from him to 
muster round his banner ! But look ! he turns and is 
about to speak. The multitude heaves with curiosity. 
How mysteriously must those words have sounded in 
their ears ! "If any man will indeed follow me, let him 
take up his cross and come after me !" The cross is 
now a consecrated symbol, and we cannot, without an 
effort, distinctly conceive the deep infamy and agony 
once associated with that instrument of death. It was 
the custom of those condemned to be crucified, to carry 
their crosses to the places of crucifixion. To this custom 



TO INCREASE HIS FRIENDS. 249 

Jesus alludes. And the sentiment he expresses is in 
effect this : " He who really means to follow me must be 
as fully prepared to suffer and die, as if he were already 
condemned, and were carrying his cross to the place of 
execution." Such a sentiment at such a moment — how 
convincingly does it show that he did not aim to bribe 
or natter the populace ! If they could take in his meaning, 
they must have been shocked beyond measure. Not for 
a moment did he lose sight of his true position. What 
an elevation of mind is there in his perfect superiority to 
popular adulation ! 

Again, when one came to him offering to follow him 
whithersoever he might go, he does not eagerly accept 
the proffered service. « The foxes have holes,' he replies, 
1 and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man 
hath not where to lay his head.' He perceived that this 
ready professor expected temporal advantage, and he un- 
deceives him in the outset. He checks his ardour by re- 
minding him that he had nothing to give. And no doubt 
the man went away chagrined and disappointed. 

At another time a young man ran to Jesus, and kneel- 
ing before him asked, ' Good master ! what shall I do to 
inherit eternal life !' How exceedingly prepossessing must 
have been the appearance of this young man, which made 
an impression upon Jesus so strong and evident as to cause 
it to be remarked that ' Jesus loved him !' But not the 
winning openness of the young man's countenance, not 
his posture of reverence, not his respectful address, could 
dim the bright spiritual vision, or sway the unerring 



250 HIS TREATMENT OP THE RICH YOUNG MAN; 

heart of Jesus. His reply is, ' Why callest thou me good 1 
There is none good but one, God.' These words we 
commonly hear read as if they were uttered with some 
degree of sternness. But, bearing in mind the strong fa- 
vourable impression made upon Jesus by the young man, 
I cannot help thinking that they must have been spoken 
in a tone somewhat deprecatory. It seems as if the deli- 
cate sensibility of Jesus apprehended some moral danger 
in being called good by one, who himself appeared so 
good and amiable, and whose voice was no doubt modu- 
lated by the sweetness and ingenuousness which his 
whole appearance exhibited so attractively. And observe, 
he does not instantly bid the young man come and enrol 
himself among his followers. He simply tells him to go 
and obey the commandments. He does not say, ' you 
cannot inherit eternal life unless you immediately and 
publicly profess yourself a follower of mine,' but, ' keep 
the commandments.' The applicant says in return, ■ I 
have kept them from my youth, what lack I yet V Then 
says Jesus, ' If thou wilt be perfect, go, sell all that thou 
hast, and give to the poor, and come and follow me.' 
This requisition may seem severe and exaggerated, but 
it is in natural keeping with the circumstances. They 
who became fellow labourers with Jesus at that day, ex- 
posed themselves to the certain loss of property and life. 
Hence arose an obvious necessity for the young man's 
disposing of his possessions before he became an adhe- 
rent of Jesus, if he were so inclined. Besides, the great 
Reformer wanted men, not their wealth. The prospect 



AND OF THOSE HE RELIEVED. 251 

of gaining a rich and youthful partisan made no impres- 
sion on him, neither did it prompt him to abate one jot 
of his demands. How singular in Jesus is the alliance of 
an interest in the cause of truth so strong, that he 
cheerfully yielded up his life for its sake, with an entire 
freedom from all undue anxiety about the number of his 
personal followers ! It was upon the departure of the rich 
young man, who was unable to follow the self-denying 
directions of Jesus, that the latter broke forth (how na- 
turally !) with that exclamation, ' ! How hardly shall they 
that have riches enter into the kingdom of God !" How 
peculiarly must this conviction have been impressed upon 
him, when he saw one like the young ruler, so amiable 
and well disposed, to all appearances so unexceptionable, 
incapacitated by the influence of wealth to enter into the 
service of that divine kingdom whose cause required the 
greatest self-sacrifices. 

Once and again, those whom Jesus had relieved from 
some distressing infirmity by his extraordinary power, 
would gladly have attached themselves to him, and gone 
about sounding his fame, but he desired no such heralds. 
He bade them go home and tell their friends what had 
been done for them. He directed those who came to him, 
to obey the Law. If this were done, he had no fear that 
his pretensions would not be appreciated. With a uni- 
form liberality and wisdom, he distinctly and cheerfully 
appealed to the good and the true. ' If any man will do 
the will of my Father, so far as it has been signified to 
him, he shall know of my teaching, whether it be true 



252 THE FAITH OF JESUS, GENUINE. 

and from God, or whether I speak of myself "Every 
one that is of the truth heareth my voice." 

The passages which I have just quoted are interesting 
for the light they throw upon the quality of the faith of 
Jesus. He virtually appealed to the judgment of all good 
men to decide the truth of his teaching. He does not 
address and bribe the passions. He does not seek to 
intimidate. There is nothing overbearing in his tone. 
The doer of God's will — to him he speaks. He, he says, 
will discriminate — he will know whether he spake truly. 
I know not how this mode of proceeding may strike 
others, but to my mind it is peculiarly original, magnani- 
mous and calm. It satisfies me perfectly that the faith 
which Jesus had in his own authority, and in the truth 
of his teaching, was a true, genuine faith, and no delusion. 
Had he been carried away by a blind enthusiasm, he 
would have been impatient and peremptory. There 
would have been a feverish anxiety to produce convic- 
tion. But we witness nothing of this kind. All is com- 
posed and serene, and he quietly awaits the judgment of 
all good men, never hasting, never resting. 

As a general remark it is undoubtedly true, that the 
truth of any statement is not established merely because 
its author is proved to believe it. He may deceive him- 
self. But if his faith bears all the tokens of a true and 
healthy faith, of being based upon true grounds, if there 
is nothing narrow, incoherent, hasty, or exaggerated in it, 
then, though we see not the foundations upon which it 
rests, yet we know that it is not an air-castle, but a true 



HE CONCEALED NOT THE PERILS OF HIS CAUSE. 253 

temple not built with hands, whose builder and supporter 
is God. Such, it seems to me, was the faith of Jesus. 
And for my part I freely say that, even were all other 
evidence wanting, I should believe Christianity to be of 
divine origin simply because its author believed it, and 
feel that I stood upon no doubtful ground. His faith 
shows itself in every feature to be a true faith, the off- 
spring, not of the imagination, but of living truth. It was 
no hallucination of mind, but true conviction. 

" If any man come to me," said he, " and hate not his 
father and his mother, he is not worthy of me." This 
passage, I know, has been the cause of some cavil. It 
furnishes powerful evidence in favour of the New Testa- 
ment as an honest narrative. If Jesus Christ did not 
actually utter these words ; if the historians had been 
eager to embellish their accounts of him ; had they had 
any object but to tell the truth, they would hardly have 
thought of putting such language into his mouth. That 
he uttered it, I cannot but believe ; and it must satisfy the 
intelligent and candid to consider that it is a strong 
oriental expression of an impressive truth, namely, that 
no one was worthy to co-operate with Jesus in the ar- 
duous work of regenerating the world, who was unable 
to rise above the strongest ties of nature and affection. 
He who could not surrender father and mother, and all 
earthly friends, for truth's sake, was unfit to be its advo- 
cate and servant. Thus fully and faithfully did the 
Founder of Christianity depict to those around him the 
perilous nature of his service. He represented all the 

22 



254 " THIS VOICE CAME NOT FOR ME, 

trials that awaited his adherents, in the strongest light. 
He manifested no concern to collect a party and build up 
a sect. " Not every one," said he, " who saith unto me 
1 Lord, Lord,' shall be admitted into my kingdom, but 
those only who do the will of God." His practice, as 
we have seen, conformed with this declaration. And, 
though longing intensely for human sympathy, and full 
of those affections which yearn after human fellowship — 
affections not superseded or overlaid, but invigorated by 
high communion with the Father of Spirits — and regard- 
ing man with a more than brotherly interest, yet not 
every one does he seek for a friend and follower. The 
few who attended him deserve not the name of a party. 
They were to him more like a family circle, bound to 
him by no oath of allegiance, but by the informal, natural 
bond of reverence and affection. As to the highest and 
dearest purposes of his soul, he lived and died a solitary 
being. No one understood him. As he himself said, he 
came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, — not to 
be magnified and worshipped as a master, but to labour 
and bleed as a faithful and unwearied servant. 

I have already referred to the passage which records 
the utterance of a voice from heaven, as an illustration of 
the perfect honesty of the narrators. But how strikingly 
was the greatness of his mind shown on that occasion ! 
Whether it were an articulate voice that was heard, or, as 
was said by the people that stood by, only thunder, 
natural enough would it have been, had Jesus taken ad- 
vantage of so remarkable an occurrence to magnify him- 



BUT FOR YOUR SAKES." 255 

self, and increase his own influence. But with that dis- 
position to put himself aside, which was one of his most 
original characteristics, he instantly declared, " This 
voice came not for me, but for your sakes." The cir- 
cumstance is related with such unconscious honesty ; it 
is identified with so fine an illustration of the moral 
greatness of Jesus, that it is impossible to doubt that 
something extraordinary did actually occur. Which it 
was, a supernatural voice, or a peal of thunder, I do not 
pretend to determine. If only the latter, it would be 
sufficiently startling, occurring at the moment it did, and 
in an age when thunder and lightning were among the 
most mysterious phenomena of nature. Still that this is 
the record of a fact, the whole structure of the passage 
shows. Were it a mere fiction, it is impossible to con- 
ceive how a writer, so much under the influence of a love 
of the marvellous as to think of exalting Jesus by fabri- 
cating a miraculous circumstance, could ever have 
dreamed of putting into his mouth such an interpretation 
of the event. 

His conduct towards the disciple who betrayed him, 
the disciple who denied him, and the magistrate who, 
against his own convictions, condemned him to death, 
is marked by the same magnanimity. 

Whether Jesus was perfectly acquainted with the cha- 
racter and destiny of Judas in the first instance, may ad- 
mit of a doubt. I cannot believe, as it sometimes seems 
to be supposed, that this wretched man was chosen as a 
disciple for the express purpose of doing what he did. I 



256 THE CONDUCT OP JESUS 

should prefer to conjecture, in the absence of direct testi- 
mony, that Jesus cherished the hope of exerting a benefi- 
cial influence upon Judas. One thing, however, is clear, 
that he, who knew what was in man, could not long have 
remained ignorant of the besetting sin of his traitorous 
adherent. His crime, great as it was, was not unac- 
countable. That he was not devoid of sensibility, his 
awful fate, revealing the poignancy of his remorse, proves 
plainly. It was the common vice of avarice that was his 
ruin. And it was probably by expectations awakened 
by the love of money, that he was induced to adhere to 
Jesus. He was exasperated, because this low craving, 
so far from being gratified, was continually rebuked by 
the words and spirit of his Master. The waste of that 
costly ointment, which was poured upon the person of 
Jesus by Mary, appears to have been the proximate 
cause of that treacherous bargain which he made with 
the Priests. Possibly he flattered himself that, if Jesus 
were really the Messiah, he would suffer no harm, and if 
he were not, then it would be an honourable service to* 
deliver him over to punishment and death. But we are 
interested now in observing how he was treated by him 
whom he used so basely. 

At the last Supper, as recorded in the thirteenth chap- 
ter of John, the feelings of Jesus towards the traitor are 
incidentally and most touchingly disclosed. That the 
confidence which his disciples cherished in him might not 
be shaken ; that they might, after his death, know that 
nothing had befallen him for which he had not been pre- 



TOWARDS HIS BETRAYER. 257 

pared, he deems it right and necessary to tell them, what 
then certainly he had perfect knowledge of, namely, that 
one of them would deliver him into the power of his ene- 
mies. At that moment, his popularity was so great that 
the Priests did not dare to attempt to seize him in public. 
They gladly availed themselves of the assistance of one 
of his followers, who knew the places to which he was 
accustomed to retire. Of the plot which had been laid 
Jesus was fully aware through his extraordinary know- 
ledge ; and, as I have just said, he makes known his ac- 
quaintance with it to his disciples, that they may after- 
wards perceive that he was not taken by surprise. But 
he communicates to them no more than was barely ne- 
cessary to produce this effect. He does not taunt Judas. 
He takes no pleasure in showing that he was aware of 
his treachery. On the contrary, he approaches the sub- 
ject with most evident reluctance. He alludes to it twice 
very obscurely, once when he was washing the feet of 
his disciples, when he said, " And ye are clean, but not 
all," and again, a few moments afterwards, observing, 
•' I speak not of you all. I know those I have chosen." 
And at last, when he explicitly declares that one of them 
would betray him, saying outright, " One of you shall 
betray me," he is " troubled in spirit," agitated, distress- 
ed. When they severally exclaim, in answer to this last 
observation, " Is it 1 1 Is it I]" he answers not; only to 
his favourite disciple John, who, in accordance with the 
reclining posture in which it was customary then to sit at 
table, leaned on the bosom of Jesus, does he designate 
22* 



258 THE CONDUCT OF JESU9 

the individual to whom he referred. Even to John it 
appears that he must have spoken in a whisper, for none 
of the rest heard him. And to John he did not breathe 
the name of Judas. It would seem that he knew he was 
watched, by Peter especially, who had beckoned to John 
to ask to whom Jesus alluded. He therefore adopts a 
sign, and directs John to observe to whom he was just 
about to give the morsel which he had dipped into the 
dish. He knew the excitable nature of Peter and the 
rest, and he avoided stirring up their wrath against the 
traitor. When Judas, stung with mortification and rage, 
left the place, Jesus did not take the opportunity of his 
departure, to disclose the name and purpose of the traitor, 
but he shows the elevation of his mind by that burst of 
mingled sublimity and pathos, to which the Scriptures 
themselves scarcely afford a parallel. He seems instantly 
to forget the treacherous disciple. The departing steps 
of Judas, going to consummate his base purpose, sound 
in his ears like the approaching steps of his own fate. 
The end was now beginning. His death he felt was then 
close at hand, but as it drew nigh, it shone with a celestial 
glory. " Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glori- 
fied in him." From the contemplation of the glory that 
awaited him in that sublime, self-sacrificing death of the 
Cross, he turns to his disciples with words of melting ten- 
derness, "My children !"* says he, " in a little while I must 

* In the Common Version it is, " Little children," which is a literal, 
but not the true translation. The word in the original is evidently a 
term of endearment, and should be rendered by a term of correspond- 



TOWARDS HIS BETRAYER. 259 

leave you, and, as I said to the Jews, I now say to you, 
whither I go ye cannot come. A new commandment I give 
unto you, That ye love one another : as I have loved you, 
that ye also love one another." With what exquisite truth 
did he, under the circumstances, call this a new command- 
ment ! The thought of his death, brought vividly home 
to him by the departure of Judas, brings along with it 
the thought that he was about to be separated from his 
friends, and instantly his heart overflows with tenderness. 
It seems as if at that moment the strength of his affec- 
tion for them was laid bare to his own eyes. So deep 
was the love of which he was then conscious, that it 
seemed to him like a new feeling, and as if he had never 
before commanded his disciples to love one another. 
In order to perceive the fine working of nature revealed 
in that phrase ' a new commandment,' the reader has 
only to reflect, how often in his own experience, the most 
familiar thoughts, the strongest affections, have been 
suddenly brought over him with such force, that they 
seemed altogether new. 

I beg the reader to study again and again this most 
remarkable chapter, the thirteenth of John. The writer 
shows himself utterly unconscious of any design but to 
state, with all directness and brevity, what took place on 
the occasion specified. He stops to make only one or two 
brief comments. He says nothing of the extraordinary 

ing import. When moved by tenderness towards one or a number 
of our friends, we say, " My child !" or, " My children !" not " Little 
child," or, " Little children." 



260 THE SAME MAGNANIMITY SHOWN 

moral beauty which he depicts. And yet everything is 
in the profoundest harmony with the greatness and ten- 
derness of the character of Jesus. If all the rest of the 
history were pronounced false and fabulous, here on this 
portion of it, we discern the deepest impress of life and 
Nature. How wonderfully natural that remark of John's — 
" After the sop Satan entered into him." John knew not 
until that moment the traitorous design of Judas, whose 
whole appearance and expression, even if he did not be- 
tray his malignant passions in his features, must have been 
instantaneously changed in the eyes of John. John then 
saw the demon in his countenance, and in perfect accord- 
ance with nature, says, that after Judas had received the 
morsel from Jesus, Satan entered into him. 

We perceive the same nobleness of mind in the bearing 
of Jesus towards Peter. Jesus was apprehended at night 
in the garden, and carried thence to the house of the Jew- 
ish High Priest. There, after a hurried examination and 
a pretence of judgment, the High Council of the nation 
declared him worthy of death. The Council then broke 
up, leaving Jesus in the hall of the High Priest's house, in 
the custody of an unfeeling crowd, who immediately 
began to offer every indignity to his person, spitting upon 
him, blindfolding him and then striking him suddenly with 
the palms of their hands, and in mockery bidding him use 
his extraordinary knowledge and tell which it was that 
smote him. It pains us to refer to these details, — to think 
of Jesus of Nazareth, that generous and exalted being, 
subjected to this brutal treatment. While these things 



TOWARD THE DISCIPLE THAT DENIED HIM. 261 

were going on, Peter, who had had the courage to follow 
his master to the High Priest's house, was accosted by 
some one, who said 'Thou also wast with Jesus of Galilee.' 
Peter probably had supposed that his master might not 
receive any injury. Unprepared for what was now taking 
place, and alarmed at the violence which was used towards 
Jesus, his courage suddenly dies away, and in his terror 
he is driven to declare to the woman who had expressed 
her suspicions of him, that he knew not what she meant. 
Finding himself suspected, he endeavours, as we may 
surmise from Matthew's narrative, to leave the place.* 
This movement awakened suspicion anew. Again it 
was said, ' Thou also wast with Jesus of Nazareth.' 
Still more terrified by the repetition of the accusation, he 
declared with the solemnity of an oath " I know not the 
man." Finding that in attempting to leave the hall he 
had exposed himself to suspicion, he seems to have re- 
turned and stood or sate by the fire which had just been 
kindled. But he could not escape observation. Some of 
them that stood by turned to him, and said, " Surely thou 
art also of them, for thy speech betrayeth thee." It is 
probable that, in his agitation, the wretched disciple said 
much more than is recorded, and by the peculiarity 
of his dialect showed himself to be a Galilean. ' Then he 
began to curse and to swear, saying, I know not the man.' 

* See Matth. xxvi. 71. According to this account, the second time 
Peter was charged with being a follower of Jesus occurred when he 
itas gone out into the porch. 



262 JESUS AND PETER. 

The language of the original implies that his curses were 
pronounced, not upon his accusers, but upon himself, as if 
he had said « May I perish if I know anything about this 
man. God is my witness, I am not this man's friend. I 
know him not.' 

While Peter was uttering these asseverations, his mas- 
ter was suffering the greatest indignities. The cruel 
hands of boisterous men were raining blows upon him, 
accompanied by every species of insult. In the midst of 
this violence, his ear caUght the sound of a familiar voice, 
pouring forth oaths and curses. It was Peter, the affec- 
tionate, forward, boastful Peter, who, in this violent man- 
ner and in the presence of that brutal company, was de- 
nying all knowledge of Jesus. Judging from his recent 
professions, we should expect that, at the first blush of 
insult offered to his master, he would have sprung for- 
ward, and defended him at the hazard of his life. But 
this he did not do. He swore solemnly, and repeatedly, 
that he knew not Jesus, and was no friend of his. Had 
not his generous master known him better than he knew 
himself, this cowardly and faithless conduct of a friend 
must have been a severer blow to him, than any inflicted 
by his unfeeling tormentors. But he was prepared for it. 
He knew the weakness of Peter. He uttered no excla- 
mation of surprise, no reproach at his faithlessness. 
This was a time to try the character of Jesus. Had he 
been any other than the perfectly magnanimous being 
that he was, he would naturally have contradicted the 
shameless falsehoods of Peter. He would have sought to 



JESUS AND PETER. 263 

avert the blows of the cruel men around him, by pointing 
out to them another, and a worthy object of their mock- 
ery. But so far was he above everything of this kind, so 
far above all selfishness and anger, that he merely turned 
and looked at Peter. Those eyes, through which beamed 
the most generous spirit that ever dwelt in a human bo- 
som, were turned full in all their awful clearness and se- 
renity upon the apostate disciple, and they dissolved his 
heart in the tears of an agonizing repentance. No word 
was spoken, for Jesus thought not to implicate others in 
his sufferings, no, not even one who at that moment 
seemed so richly to deserve to suffer. Who can be in- 
sensible to the magnanimity here exhibited ! To adopt 
the eloquent remark of a most eloquent writer, — " When 
Peter had denied him thrice, the Lord turned, and looked 
upon Peter, and Peter went out and wept bitterly. If that 
look taught Peter to repent, it may teach us to believe : 
the fraud and the folly, which we witness, have no such 
singleness of heart, and such plain majesty of action. 
Whenever we behold such signs as these, we hail them 
as the marks which God has put upon truth and good 
faith ; premeditated sophistry may destroy the first burst 
of nature, but in reading the history of Christ's death, the 
fresh and sudden feelings of the heart all acquit him, all 
praise him, all believe in him ; — we all feel as Pontius Pi- 
late his judge felt, who, when he had looked at him, and 
heard him speak, broke from the judgment seat, and 
bathed his trembling hands in the water, saying, " I call 



264 JESUS AND PETER. 

you all to witness, I am guiltless of the blood of this in- 
nocent man."* 

What a strong and cheering light does the character of 
Jesus, as revealed in his treatment of Peter, cast upon the 
character of God 1 It may not be denied that the Deity 
is frequently represented as a stern and repulsive being. 
But would we know how God regards the sinful, we must 
turn to Jesus Christ. He declares himself one with the 
Father. WouJd we learn what the Supreme Spirit is, 
we [must study the spirit of Christ ; for they are one. 
They who believe that this Oneness is literal and per- 
sonal, must feel the whole force of this argument. For 
the Supreme is unchangeable. And if Christ was full of 
consideration, then surely this must be the character of 
God, and we may well believe that every allowance is 
made for us, by him w T ho knows our frame, and remem- 
bers we are dust. If any conduct justifies indignation, 
it is such conduct as Peter's. But how did Jesus treat 
the faithless Apostle ? He only turned and looked upon 
him ! looked upon him no doubt with undiminished affec- 
tion, and with a countenance beaming with pity. Here 
then, in the hall of the High Priest's palace, and amidst 
that dark and brutal throng, streams forth a sublime re- 
velation of the unutterable mercy of God, who ' hath shone 
into our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the 
glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.' In that look 

* See Sydney Smith's Sermons, vol. i. p. 178. Sermon " On Good 
Friday." 



THE PRISONER AND THE JUDGE. 265 

which was turned upon Peter, there is a beam that, issu- 
ing from the Spirit of all light and love, illuminates the 
upturned features of Penitence, and directs her to God as 
to one, of whose mercy a father's affection, and a mother's 
fondness, are but dim and imperfect types ! 

The conduct of Jesus, when he stood before the Ro- 
man Governor, is marked by the same elevation, which 
we have observed in so many instances. He betrayed 
not the slightest symptom of fear, or of any emotion in- 
consistent with his usual dignity of mind and manner. 
He calmly declared that his kingdom was not of an out- 
ward, political character ; if it had been, he would have 
had adherents to fight for him. But as he had used 
no violence, it was evident enough he had not sought 
worldly power. " Art thou a king then !" asked Pilate. 
" Yes," is the reply, " I am a king. For this end was I 
born, and for this cause came I into the world, to bear 
witness to the truth ; and every true man is my sub- 
ject." Such was his sublime definition of his regal cha- 
racter. After Pilate had put him to the torture of the 
scourge, with the probable hope, as I have already inti- 
mated, that this might satisfy the Jews, it became evi- 
dent to Jesus that Pilate was too weak to save him, and 
of course that words were of no avail. And when Pilate 
began again to question him, repeating the same inquiries, 
he made no answer. The Governor then menaced him 
with his power. How justly does Jesus appear to have 

23 



266 JESUS, OUR MASTER. 

estimated the character of Pilate ! He neither weakly de- 
fers to the imbecile magistrate, nor does he utter one up- 
braiding word, but simply observes that Pilate had no 
power of his own ; that he was but an instrument, and 
that the principal guilt of the transaction rested with 
others. The injustice with which he was treated dis- 
turbed not, for a moment, the clearness and calmness of 
his mind. It neither intimidated, nor exasperated him. 

It cannot be that we have hearts, and that they are to 
remain cold and insensible to all these various and touch- 
ing manifestations of the mingled tenderness and wisdom 
of the man of Nazareth. Who can help feeling that he 
must come hither — to this, the heavenliest model of all 
virtue, to kindle his best sentiments, to elevate and re- 
fine his sense of truth and rectitude, to feed his imperish- 
able soul 1 Who so high in rank, so gifted in intellect, as 
to refuse to acknowledge Jesus as Lord and Master 1 In 
all that elevates human nature, he is the master of us all. 
There is nothing humiliating — oh no — it must be our de- 
light and honour — it must all-ennoble us to accord him 
this title. The words of the fervent old poet — have they 
now no music in our ears 1 

"How sweetly doth my master sound ! my master ! 

As ambergris leaves a rich scent 
Unto the taster : 

So do these words a sweet content, 
An oriental fragrancy: my master !" 



THE UNCONSCIOUSNESS OF THE NARRATORS. 267 

The instances I have adduced in this chapter to illus- 
trate the moral greatness of Jesus Christ, I have arranged 
with very little order. I knew not how to do otherwise, 
or better, or where to begin. And I know not now where 
to end. There are numerous other occasions upon which 
the wonderful beauty of his moral being is disclosed. I 
must break off with the hope that the illustrations of this 
great subject, which have been specified, have been stated 
at least with some distinctness and discrimination, not 
altogether from hearsay, but with some personal feeling 
of their truth. If this hope be not justifiable, it would be 
in vain to say more. But if I have been at all successful 
in what I have attempted, then enough has been said to 
show how abundant are the materials which the Christian 
Records have furnished us, whereby we may construct in 
our minds an idea of moral greatness, to which history 
affords no equal. Not a trace appears in these writings 
of any design to work out the uniform consistency, appa- 
rent in this respect. The writers appear to be occu- 
pied with nothing but a statement of facts ; of facts 
which, however, they do not enlarge upon, nor make 
the least effort to combine into a whole. They pass 
abruptly from one incident to another, entirely different 
in its details, unconscious of the beautiful and godlike 
spirit which they portray. Not that they were insen- 
sible to the power of the character of him, whose words 
and works they relate. They could not possibly have 
given stronger proof of their being thoroughly imbued 



268 THE DEATH AND RESURRECTION OF JESUS. 

with the spirit of Jesus, which was the spirit of truth, 
than they have given in their simple, unvarnished narra- 
tions. 



CHAPTER XII. 



THE DEATH AND RESURRECTION OF JESUS. 

" Auctor nominis ejus Christus, qui, Tiberio imperitante, per pro- 
curatorem Pontium Pilatum supplicio affectus erat." — Tacitus Ann. 
lib. xv. 



The leader of this denomination was Christ, who, in the reign 
of Tiberius, suffered punishment under the Procurator Pontius 
Pilate. Trans. 

The marks of truth and nature upon the accounts of 
the death of Jesus and his rising from the dead are so 
numerous and impressive, that I propose to make this 
portion of the history the subject of particular examination. 
It is precisely such a relation of these most interesting 
events as we might naturally expect, supposing them to 
be true. The whole style of narration, the discrepancies 
between the different accounts, the very errors and mis- 
takes apparent in some subordinate particulars, all indicate 
precisely such a state of feeling as must have been pro- 
duced in the eye and ear-witnesses, if the things related 
actually took place. It is in this perfect truth of feeling. 



THE DEATH OP JESUS. 269 

so abundantly disclosed, that I find an impregnable 
ground for my faith. The testimony of one man, giving 
indubitable tokens of a true spirit, is absolutely decisive 
in itself, admitting of no comparison with the testimony 
of men in whom no such spirit is discernible, even though 
they were numberless. It is not therefore upon the 
number of the witnesses in the present case that I rely, 
but upon the overwhelming evidence given that these 
histories are the productions of truth and honesty. It is 
true, we are extremely liable to be deceived as to the 
indications of the presence of a true mind in any given 
instance. But what does this prove'? Not surely that 
there is no such thing as a true mind, but that, truth of 
feeling is so powerful to impress and convince that the 
slightest appearance of it carries with it the greatest 
weight. 

Jesus was tried arid executed on the day preceding the 
Jewish Sabbath, of course on a Friday. Respecting the 
precise hour of his crucifixion the accounts vary.* Various 
methods of reconciling the statements of Mark and John 
have been attempted, but it seems to me scarcely necessary. 
It would be very strange, and not at all natural, if the 
power of noting the lapse of time had not been disturbed 
in the minds of the spectators and participants in the 
scene, while events were taking place so intensely in- 
teresting. 

From the time Jesus was nailed to the cross until he 

* See Mark xv. 25, and John xix. 14. 
23* 



270 PROBABLE ORDER OF HIS EJACULATIONS 

expired, it appears from the different accounts that he 
spoke seven times. We are not able to determine with 
certainty the precise order in which the various sentences 
and ejaculations ascribed to him were uttered. The 
following however appears to me their most probable 
sequence. As they were nailing him to the cross, or just 
as that terrible office was completed, he breathed forth 
that sublime prayer upon which I remarked in the fore- 
going chapter, ' Father, forgive them, for they know not 
what they do.' After he was crucified, they immediately 
began to jeer and ridicule him. And then it was that 
the brief conversation passed between him and one of 
his fellow-sufferers. 'This day thou shalt be with me 
in paradise' — in other words, 'thou shalt immediately be 
with me in the condition of the virtuous dead.' The 
individual to whom these words were addressed, in his 
ready appreciation of the character of Jesus, whose meek 
and touching demeanour he had observed, in rebuking 
the other criminal who had joined with the crowd in 
ridiculing Jesus, how impressively did he show that he 
was already, spiritually speaking, on the very threshold 
of Heaven ! Already was he in Paradise. Shortly after- 
wards, Jesus, recognising among the multitude his 
mother and his favourite friend John, signified his wish 
that she should regard John as her son in his place, 
and that John should consider her as his mother. The 
thirst naturally attendant upon the intense agony which 
he was enduring soon became so severe that he could 
not help giving expression to his feelings. He ex- 



UPON THE CROSS. 271 

claimed 'I thirst,' and one of the crowd brought, fas- 
tened upon the end of a reed, a piece of sponge which 
had been dipped into a mixture of vinegar and myrrh, a 
preparation used on such occasions, out of mercy to the 
crucified, to stupify and deaden their sensibility. A por- 
tion of this mixture was offered to Jesus, just before he 
was crucified, and he refused to drink it. He would not 
avail himself of any such means of escaping the torture 
that awaited him. Just before the sponge was lifted to his 
lips, his sufferings were so severe that for a moment he 
seemed to be overwhelmed with a feeling of desperation, 
which burst forth in the words, 'My God, my God, why 
hast thou forsaken me !' For an instant his agony was 
intolerable. Still even his momentary despair is ex- 
pressed in the devout language of Scripture. These 
words are the commencement of one of the Psalms. 
The sharp paroxysm of pain appears to have been soon 
succeeded by a feeling of relief, and life began rapidly 
to ebb away. At this moment he exclaimed, ' It is 
finished,' or 'it is over.' This exclamation is sometimes 
interpreted in too formal a manner, as if Jesus referred 
to the completion of his great mission, whereas it is 
more natural and simple to suppose that he alluded to 
the excruciating pain he had just suffered. His last words 
were, 'Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.' 
With this expression of filial trust, his head fell and he 
expired. 

Thus died the man of Nazareth, not with stoical insen- 
sibility, but with natural indications of the extremest suf- 
fering. Who does not prize his expressions of forgive- 



272 HE DIED SIMPLY. 

ness, filial affection, and piety, more deeply, as bursting 
from a heart palpitating and almost broken with mortal 
agonies, than if he had maintained a stony indifference, 
or exhibited the demeanour -of one steeled by a peculiar 
temperament or a stern purpose against the betrayal of 
the least sign of suffering'? In the latter case we could 
not have had a manifestation of character at once so ele- 
vated, and yet so perfectly natural. We could hardly 
have avoided the impression of something forced and 
artificial. It would have seemed as if he were actuated 
by some sentiment of human honour, or some desire to 
triumph over his tormentors, and baffle their malice. He 
did triumph over them gloriously. But then his victory 
was the more complete, his glory the more signal, on this 
very account, even because he never struggled for victory 
over men, never sought the faintest shadow of human 
glory. He was influenced by no narrow reference to hu- 
man standards of thought and judgment. He felt and 
spoke and acted under no constraint. To every deep 
feeling of his heart, he gave free expression. When he 
suffered, he showed that he suffered. And though his 
whole soul is laid bare, and we see that his agony was 
extreme, we discover no trace of fear. His emotions 
were natural, but never unworthy of him, and his predo- 
minant feelings were of the most generous and exalted 
character. For my own part, I could more easily doubt 
the plainest evidence of my senses, than the reality of the 
scene which I have now briefly reviewed, and from which 
I gather so vivid and consistent an impression of the most 
perfect beauty and the most perfect nature, without any 



HE DID NOT SUFFER LONG ON THE CROSS. 273 

design apparent on the part of the historian to produce 
this impression. 

Jesus breathed his last very soon, in a few hours after 
he was fastened to the cross. It was not unusual for 
persons in that horrible situation to survive for days. It 
was natural therefore, that Pilate should be surprised at 
the speedy termination of the sufferings of Jesus. But 
when we consider all the probable circumstances of the 
case, it can hardly surprise us that the vital principle was 
so soon extinguished. I cannot but believe that there 
was the greatest physical difference between Jesus and 
those who usually suffered death by crucifixion. The 
latter were generally men of the lowest description, of a 
coarse, rugged temperament ; while with the thought of 
Jesus is naturally associated in the mind the idea of an 
almost feminine susceptibility. As I have more than once 
had occasion to observe, the whole tenour of Christianity 
intimates as much. But the acuteness of his sensibility 
to pain is explicitly shown in the accounts of his death. 
How fearful and overpowering were his agonies, that 
cry of his, " my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken 
me !" proves very clearly. The generous affection, the 
filial love particularly, to which he gave expression on 
the Cross, reveals the depth of his sensibilities. I beg to 
observe by the way, that the full beauty of the incident 
to which I now allude, the manifestation of his concern 
for his mother, does not appear to have been perceived. 
In our version, the passage runs thus : " When Jesus 
therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, 



274 " WOMAN ! BEHOLD ! THY SON !" 

whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, woman, behold 
thy son ! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy 
mother !" But the slightest glance at the original shows 
that the words of Jesus were, " Woman ! behold ! thy 
son !" and when he spoke to John, "Behold! thy moth- 
er !" The difference between the two readings is more 
important than it may at first seem. The reading of the 
common version presents us with a complete sentence, 
while in the original the utterance of Jesus appears to 
be broken and ejaculatory. In this case, there is a fine 
and touching accordance between the brief imperfect 
mode of expression, and the physical condition of the 
speaker — a condition of mortal agony. Parched with 
thirst, and almost in the very pains of death, he was able 
to utter himself only briefly, and at intervals, and to sig- 
nify his affectionate wishes with regard to his mother, by 
a word or two, which he accompanied, possibly by a 
look, or an inclination of the head, or some slight move- 
ment, such as his confined and agonizing posture allowed, 
relying upon the quick-conceiving affections of his mother 
and John to make out his meaning. The noise and the 
crowd may have required a considerable effort of voice 
from Jesus, to make himself heard by his mother and 
John, who probably were not able to approach very near 
the Cross. There is an impression of deliberation and 
formality produced by the common and erroneous read- 
ing of this passage, which does not correspond so natu- 
rally with the circumstances. How profound must have 
been the sensibility of that heart, whose filial affection 



THAT HE DID NOT EXPIRE SOONER, REMARKABLE. 275 

the distracting pangs of a most terrible death could not 
quench ! It is impossible that one so constituted could 
have long endured such fearful sufferings. 

When I consider the character of Jesus, his astonish- 
ing elevation of mind, his lofty aims, his laborious life ; 
when I think how successfully he sustained himself, at a 
point where the tremendously exciting circumstances, to 
which he was almost every hour exposed, could not reach 
him, I cannot but feel that all the energies of his physical 
temperament, were it of the most finely organized cha- 
racter, must have been tasked to the uttermost. The 
real ground of surprise, I am persuaded, is, not that he 
died so soon after being suspended upon the Cross, but 
that he did not expire sooner. Nay, we may almost won- 
der that he lived to be crucified. With a nature singu- 
larly fitted to find strength and satisfaction and happi- 
ness in this world, in human aids and supports, he lived 
deprived of all these. Once and again, the thought of his 
peculiar destiny, elevating as it usually was, seems almost 
to have overpowered him. The dreadful baptism, as he 
termed it, which he was about to go through — how did 
he long to have it over ! Consider too how much he had 
suffered, just before his crucifixion. The night before, in 
the garden, the agony of his mind was so exhausting, that 
as he himself said, it seemed to him as if he should die — 
as if he could not live. Recollect the brutal treatment to 
which he was exposed, at the house of the High Priest, — 
and then again at the rough and savage hands of the Ro- 
man soldiers ! He had bled, too, beneath the tortures of 



276 THE REALITV OF HIS DEATH. 

the Roman Scourge, an instrument of pain so severe, that 
ancient authors pronounce it horrible.* How greatly he 
was exhausted, the circumstance that another was seized 
and compelled to carry his cross for him, intimates very 
probably. This would hardly have been allowed, if the 
appearance of Jesus, weak and fainting, had not awaken- 
ed in the minds of the Roman soldiers the fear that he 
might die, and that so they might be disappointed of their 
barbarous sport. 

Bearing all these things in mind, I cannot wonder that 
he lived upon the cross only a few hours. And I can 
scarcely bear, even for the purpose of confutation, to 
allude to the suspicion which has sometimes been ex- 
pressed, that he did not actually die, but only swooned. 
I cannot but regard it as utterly incredible that so much 
agony should have resulted in anything short of death. 
As the Sabbath, and it was a special religious occasion, 
was nigh at hand, the Jewish elders, with a characteristic 
scrupulousness, anxious that the festival should not be 
denied by the unsightly and unclean spectacle, requested 
Pilate to cause the crucified to be put to death, and their 
bodies to be removed. In compliance with this request, 
the Roman Governor directed that the legs of the suf- 
ferers should be broken. This would appear to be a 
usual operation in such cases, and the effect of it, or of 
some blow by which it was accompanied, was to put a 

* See Wakefield on Matthew, who quotes Horace, and refers to 
Juvenal. 



THE WOUND IN HIS SIDE. 277 

speedy termination to life. When the persons entrusted 
with this office came to Jesus, they found that he was 
already dead, and, surprised at his having expired so 
soon, and doubtful of the fact, a soldier pierced his 
side with a spear. This was undoubtedly done to make 
it certain that he was dead. If, as we may suppose, 
the soldier stood before the cross, and held his spear 
in his right hand, he most probably plunged the weapon 
into the left side, and so reached a vital part. I know 
not whether it is so by design, but in Rubens's celebrated 
picture of the Descent from the Cross, the mark of the 
spear is shown on the right side of Jesus. From the 
wound made by the soldier there issued " blood and 
water."* We have in these words a Hebrew form of 

* It is worthy of note, that John accompanies the record of this 
circumstance with a solemn asseveration of its truth, " And he that 
saw it bare record, and his record is true." We cannot help sus- 
pecting that the historian had reference here to a sect that appeared 
very early, the Docetse, who maintained that Christ came only in 
appearance. There is, at least, a singular coincidence between the 
importance attached to the discharge of blood and water by the 
Evangelist, and the language of the historian Gibbon, " While the 
hlood of Christ yet smoked on Mount Calvary, the Doceta- invented 
the impious and extravagant hypothesis, that, instead of issuing from 
the womb of the Virgin, he had descended on the banks of the river 
Jordan, in the form of perfect manhood ; that he had imposed on the 
senses of his enemies, and of his disciples; and that the ministers of 
Pilate had wasted their impotent rage on an airy phantom, who 
seemed to expire on the cross, and, after three days, to rise from the 
dead." — (The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chapter xxi.) 

24 



278 THE APPALLING CIRCUMSTANCES 

expression, equivalent to bloody water, or watery blood, — 
water more or less discoloured by blood. The heart is 
always surrounded by a small quantity of water, appa- 
rently designed to lubricate it, and facilitate its motion. 
It is said that in cases of persons who die after extreme 
suffering, this water is considerably increased in quantity.* 
If the history had stated simply that blood flowed from 
the side of Jesus, there might be some plausibility in the 
suspicion, either that he was not really dead, as blood does 
not usually flow from a dead body, or that this circum- 
stance was fabricated for the sake of showing that Jesus 
was actually dead, although it would have proved no 
such thing. But putting out of view all anatomical con- 
siderations, it is impossible to account for the mention of 
4i blood and water," (a phrase which may mean merely 
discoloured water,) save upon the supposition that there 
was actually such a discharge. There is no conceivable 
inducement for the mention of water, but its actual ap- 
pearance. In this case I know not how there can linger 
the least doubt of the death of Jesus. 

The crucifixion of Jesus was attended by certain ap- 
palling circumstances. " Now, from the sixth hour, there 

In more than one instance the Gospel of John appears to have 
reference to cotemporaneous opinions. 

* u The ' liquor pericardii' is, in general, in such small quantities 
that its effusion is scarcely evident ; but when the death is slow, and 
even in the case of a person who is hung, it accumulates rapidly, as 
well as in all the pectoral vessels, besides the pericardium." — (Mi- 
chaeli3 on the Resurrection.) 



ATTENDING HIS CRUCIFIXION. 279 

was darkness over all the land, unto the ninth hour. — 
And behold the veil of the temple was rent in twain, from 
the top to the bottom, and the earth did quake, and the 
rocks rent, and the graves were opened; and many 
bodies of the saints who slept, arose, and came out of the 
graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city 
and appeared unto many."* 

Whether the earthquake which is recorded to have 
taken place was miraculous, using the word in its popu- 
lar sense, and was caused as an expression of Divine 
Displeasure, admits of a very serious doubt. Thus re- 
garded, it surely does not correspond with the spirit of 
mercy and forgiveness which glorified the agonies of 
Jesus. Besides, it certainly admitted of a double inter- 
pretation ; and his enemies may have understood it 
as a token in their favour, against him. The darkness 
by which it was preceded, and which came on some 
hours before he breathed his last, was certainly calculated, 
if construed as a sign from Heaven, to aggravate the 
gloom and horror of dying. 

But however we may regard the earthquake, the fact, 
that there was an earthquake, appears to be most evident 
from the manner in which it is mentioned. If these ex- 
traordinary circumstances were fabricated, it must have 
been for a certain purpose ; to express the horror excited 
by the wickedness of those who had put Jesus to death. 
And the writers, who entertained so great an abhorrence 

* See Matthew, xxvii. 45, 51—53. 



280 THE PERTURBED STATE 

of the destroyers of Jesus as to invent such an extraordi- 
nary physical phenomenon to express their indignation, 
would certainly not have contented themselves with such 
a naked statement of the fact. They would have made 
some remark explanatory of the convulsion of Nature. 
They would have accompanied the account with some 
expression of their own feelings, which must have been 
strong indeed to lead them to imagine or to invent what 
did not really take place. 

And besides, when the occurrence of the earthquake is 
admitted, all the other circumstances mentioned admit of 
being accounted for in a very natural manner. The 
rending of the veil in the temple which hung before the 
Holy of Holies, and which was probably worn by time, 
the splitting of rocks, and the opening of the graves, 
which, like the sepulchre in which Jesus was laid, and 
like the grave of Lazarus, were usually caves with stones 
rolled at their mouths to close them — all these may have 
been caused by the agitation of the earth. Now I beg 
the reader to pause, and picture to himself the then state 
of things, and he will discern an impressive manifestation 
of truth and nature in this portion of the history. The 
individual who had just expired on the cross, had every- 
where produced the greatest sensation. The intense in- 
terest which the leading men of the nation had taken in 
putting him to death, proves that he could have been no 
common person. Everywhere the people had flocked 
round him in multitudes, and he was very generally re- 
garded as a Prophet, fiis benignity, his wisdom, his un- 



OP THE PUBLIC MIND. 281 

wonted air of authority, his extraordinary powers, had 
moved the public mind deeply. And now that he had 
just breathed his last upon the cruel cross, darkness had 
overcast the heavens, and the earth had trembled so 
violently that rocks had been rent, and the stones which 
closed the sepulchres had been moved from their places, 
so that the remains of the dead were exposed to the view 
of the alarmed passers by. The history does not say 
that at the time of the crucifixion the dead arose, but 
that " after his resurrection" they awoke, and came into 
the city and appeared to many. The third day after 
the death of Jesus, he rose from the dead. The know- 
ledge of this startling event must have been rumoured 
abroad, whispered over the city, through the guard, and 
among the disciples of Jesus, with the greatest rapidity, 
some time before the full evidence of the fact was pub- 
lished. Consider how the public heart was throbbing 
with excitement. Think how fearfully the minds of the 
tender and susceptible, of those especially, whose thoughts, 
from one cause or another, as from the recent loss of near 
friends, were dwelling upon the mysteries of the other 
world, must have been agitated by all that Jesus had said 
and done, by the awful circumstances of his death, by 
the darkness and the earthquake and the rending of rocks 
and the opening of tombs and the sight of the dead, and 
then you will see how impressively it accords with the 
perturbed state of men's imaginations, that there should 
have been visions, and stories and rumours of ghosts 
and apparitions. Observe, the historian does not say 
24* 



282 THE BURIAL OF JESUS. 

that he himself, or any of the disciples, saw the dead who 
awoke, but that they " were seen by many." It is not 
merely to meet the difficulty which serious and well-dis- 
posed minds have found in this portion of the history, 
that I suggest this view of the case. It goes infinitely 
further. It reveals a world of truth, nature and evidence. 
It not only furnishes the strongest presumption of the 
truth of the great central facts, the death and resurrection 
of Jesus, but it also reveals the tremendous depth of the 
impression which his life and death had made. It dis- 
closes undesignedly the existence of precisely such a 
state of feeling as must have been produced by the events 
previously narrated, if these events really took place. 
In a word, it is in beautiful and unconscious accordance 
with the nature of the human mind, and I cannot express 
the strength of conviction which it adds to my faith. 

It shows what an interest Jesus had awakened, that 
persons so eminent as Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, 
members of the Jewish Sanhedrim, should have been 
solicitous to see him decently interred. They went to 
the Roman Governor and obtained permission to bury 
Jesus. The body was taken down from the cross about 
sunset on Friday, and laid in a new tomb belonging to 
Joseph, near the place of execution. The female friends 
of Jesus, whose affection was less alloyed than that of the 
other disciples by selfish ambition, were still faithful to 
him. They watched the body while it remained on the 



THE EFFECT OF HIS DEATH ON HIS FRIENDS. 283 

Cross, and took care to see, when it was removed, where 
it was deposited, that they might pay to the precious 
remains every possible office of respect. His other follow- 
ers evidently regarded his death as the utter ruin of those 
high hopes he had inspired. If it be doubted whether he 
actually predicted his own death and resurrection, then it 
must be admitted that his disciples had no expectation of 
these events. Or, if we credit the history, as I think we 
must, when it informs us that Jesus told his followers 
that he was to be crucified, and that he would rise again 
on the third day, then also the reason is manifest why 
the prediction made no impression on their minds, and 
retained no place in their memories. They believed him 
to be the Messiah, that magnificent Prince. The idea of 
his dying the death of a common malefactor was of all 
things the most shocking to their minds. They must 
have rejected it with an instinctive horror. A great deal 
of his language sounded very enigmatical on account of 
their strong prejudices. And it is highly probable that 
when he spake of his death, they supposed he was 
speaking figuratively, and that his words had some other 
than their obvious meaning.'* That they had no distinct 

* It deserves attention for various reasons that his predictions of 
his death and resurrection appear always to have been uttered upon 
those occasions when the earthly hopes of his disciples must have been 
most strongly excited. See Matth. xvi. 21. Mark x. 32. and Luke ix. 
43. The passage in Luke is particularly remarkable. " And they 
were all amazed at the mighty power of God. But while they won- 
dered every one at all things which Jesus did, he said unto his disci- 



284 HIS DISCIPLES FILLED WITH DISMAY. 

idea of what was to happen, appears from the circum- 
stance that only a few hours before he was seized by his 
enemies, while he was observing the Passover with them, 
they disputed which should take precedence in that tem- 
poral kingdom, whose establishment they fondly expected. 
When at last he was hung upon the cross, when he ex- 
pired there, they were overwhelmed by the terrible fact. 
They cared not to recur to his words for comfort and 
light, for they felt that all was over. The hopes he had 
built up were shaken to their centre. 

pies, Let these sayings sink down into your ears, for the Son of man 
shall be delivered into the hands of men. But they understood not 
this saying, and it was hid from them, that they perceived it not ; 
and they feared to ask him of that saying." 

1. Through no weakness did he ever lose sight of his awful fate. 
While all around him were magnifying him, filled with amazement 
at his extraordinary power, the tumultuous feeling that heaved in all 
hearts shook not him. Not for an instant was he blinded to his true 
and fearful destiny. 

2. We see here why it was that his personal disciples failed to com- 
prehend at the time what he meant, when he spake of his sufferings 
and death. How strange and inexplicable must his language have 
appeared to those who were confidently expecting him to assume a 
princely state and authority, and never more confidently than after 
he had wrought some mighty work ! 

3. The utterance of such language under such circumstances, 
even though it was not rightly understood at the moment, was 
strikingly fitted to make an ineffaceable impression on the minds of 
the disciples, and the words of Jesus must have recurred to them 
afterwards, when subsequent events began to interpret their meaning, 
with a distinct and overwhelming force. 



THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS. 285 

The near approach of the Sabbath caused the burial of 
Jesus to be brief and hurried. The Jewish Priests and 
elders, holding him to be an impostor, and therefore not 
having the same difficulty in understanding his predic- 
tions, which his disciples had, recollected that he had said 
he would rise again from the dead on the third day. They 
caught eagerly at his prophecy, in its literal sense, and 
trusted to disprove it. Accordingly they procured a 
guard of soldiers to be stationed at the place where the 
body of Jesus was laid, and thus they expected by the 
event to destroy his credit for ever. 

The account which I shall here insert, of the circum- 
stances which took place on the third day after the death 
of Jesus, is, with considerable additions, the same that ori- 
ginally appeared in the Christian Examiner, (Jan. 1834.) 
As some, whose judgment I respect greatly, were pleased 
to characterize it then as more ingenious than true, I 
have been led to review it more than once with particular 
care. The only consequence has been an increased con- 
viction of the substantial truth of the following explana- 
tion of this portion of the History. The reader will per- 
haps think this result natural enough. Still I may be al- 
lowed to say that my respect for the opinion of those, 
who are unable to assent to my representation of this me- 
morable event, is so great that I cannot but think I should 
have relinquished the peculiar views I have suggested, or 
at least looked upon them with diminished interest, if they 



286 THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS. 

did not rest upon grounds of no ordinary strength. I so- 
licit attention to one or two preliminary considerations. 

I will first, however, for the convenience of the reader, 
insert here those portions of the four Gospels, which re- 
late to the subject. 

Matth. xxviii. 1 — 11. " In the end of the Sabbath, as it began 
to dawn toward the first day of the week, came Mary Magda- 
lene, and the other Mary, to see the sepulchre. And, behold, 
there was a great earthquake ; for the angel of the Lord de- 
scended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from 
the door, and sat upon it. His countenance was like lightning, 
and his raiment white as snow : And for fear of him the keepers 
did shake, and became as dead men. And the angel answered 
and said unto the women, Fear not ye ; for I know that ye seek 
Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here ; for he is risen as 
he said. Come see the place where the Lord lay. And go 
quickly, and tell his disciples that he is risen from the dead : 
and, behold, he goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye 
see him: lo, I have told you. And they departed quickly from 
the sepulchre with fear and great joy ; and did run and bring 
his disciples word. And as they went to tell his disciples, be- 
hold, Jesus met them saying, All hail. And they came, and 
held him by the feet, and worshipped him. Then said Jesus 
unto them, Be not afraid : go tell my brethren that they go into 
Galilee, and there shall they see me. Now when they were 
going, behold, some of the watch came into the city, and showed 
unto the chief priests all the things that were done." 

Mark xvi. 1 — 8. "And when the Sabbath was past, Mary 
Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Salome, had 
bought sweet spices, that they might come and anoint him. 



THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS. 287 

And very early in the morning, the first day of the week, they 
came unto the sepulchre, at the rising of the sun. And they 
said among themselves, Who shall roll us away the stone from 
the door of the sepulchre 1 And when they looked, they saw 
that the stone was rolled away : for it was very great. And 
entering into the sepulchre, they saw a young man sitting on 
the right side clothed in a long white garment, and they were 
affrighted. And he saith unto them, Be not affrighted. Ye 
seek Jesus of Nazareth which was crucified : he is risen: he is 
not here : behold the place where they laid him. But go your 
way, tell his disciples and Peter, that he goeth before you into 
Galilee ; there shall ye see him, as he said unto you. And they 
went out quickly, and fled from the sepulchre ; for they trembled 
and were amazed : neither said they anything to any man ; for 
they were afraid." 

Luke xxiv. 1 — 12. "Now upon the first day of the week, very 
early in the morning, they came unto the sepulchre, bringing 
the spices which they had prepared, and certain others with 
them. And they found the stone rolled away from the sepul- 
chre. And they entered in and found not the body of the Lord 
Jesus. And it came to pass as they were much perplexed there- 
about, behold two men stood by them, in shining garments; 
And as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the 
earth, they said unto them, why seek ye the living among the 
dead ! He is not here, but is risen ; remember how he spake 
unto you, when he was yet in Galilee, saying, the Son of man 
must be delivered into the hands of sinful men and be crucified, 
and the third day rise again. And they remembered his words, 
and returned from the sepulchre, and told all these things unto 
the eleven and the rest. Tt was Mary Magdalene, and Joanna, 
and Mary the mother of James, and other women that were 



288 THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS. 

with them, who told these things to the Apostles. And their 
words seemed to them as idle tales, and they believed them not. 
Then arose Peter and ran unto the sepulchre, and stooping 
down, he beheld the linen clothes laid by themselves, and de- 
parted, wondering in himself at that which was come to pass." 
John xx. 1 — 18. " The first day of the week cometh Mary 
Magdalene early, when it was yet dark, unto the sepulchre, 
and seeth the stone taken away from the sepulchre. Then she 
runneth and cometh to Simon Peter and to the other disciple 
whom Jesus loved, and saith unto them, They have taken away 
the Lord out of the sepulchre, and we know not where they 
have laid him. Peter therefore went forth, and that other dis- 
ciple, and came to the sepulchre. So they ran both together : 
and the other disciple did outrun Peter, and came first to the 
sepulchre. And he stooping down saw the linen clothes lying ; 
yet went he not in. Then cometh Simon Peter following him, and 
went into the sepulchre, and seeth the linen clothes lie ; and 
the napkin that was about his head, not lying with the linen 
clothes, but wrapped together in a place by itself. Then went 
in also that other disciple who came first to the sepulchre, and 
he saw and believed. For as yet they knew not the Scripture 
that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples went away 
again unto their own home. But Mary stood without at the 
door of the sepulchre, weeping : and as she wept, she stooped 
down and looked into the sepulchre, and seeth two angels in 
white, sitting the one at the head, and the other at the feet, 
where the body of Jesus had lain. And they say unto her, wo- 
man, why weepest thou 1 She saith unto them, Because they 
have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have 
laid him. And when she had thus said, she turned herself back 
and saw Jesus standing, and knew not that it was Jesus. Jesus 



THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS. 289 

saith unto her, Woman, why weepest thou ! whom seekest thou ! 
She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith unto him, Sir, if 
thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast laid him, 
and I will take him away. Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She 
turned herself, and said unto him, Rabboni ; which is to say, 
my master. Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not ; for I am not 
yet ascended to my Father, but go to my brethren and say unto 
them, I ascend unto my Father and your Father, and to my 
God and your God. Mary Magdalene came and told the disci- 
ples that she had seen the Lord, and that he had spoken these 
things unto her." 

1. Presuming the reader has read over these passages 
with care, I beg him to observe in the first place, that 
they all state that the particulars related took place very 
early in the morning, and that the last account, the only 
one that purports to be the testimony of one of the indi- 
viduals personally present at the sepulchre, (John) states 
that it was yet dark. Surely this is a circumstance that 
should be allowed some weight, even though the wit- 
nesses were the keenest observers. Add to this the cir- 
cumstance that the light in the sepulchre could not have 
been the strongest, as it appears that they who went into 
it were compelled to stoop. It must have descended 
more or less abruptly into the earth. 

2. It deserves serious attention that it was not Peter 
nor John, nor any of the male friends of Jesus, but women 
who saw angels at the tomb. Is the constitutional dif- 
ference of the sexes — the peculiar sensibility and imagi- 

25 



290 A PARTICULAR EXAMINATION 

nativeness of the female character to be wholly disre- 
garded by a sincere seeker after truth ? 

3. Not only were they women who reported the appear- 
ance of angels at the sepulchre, but women, of whom we 
are expressly told that they were startled and hurried into 
a false conclusion the moment they perceived that the stone 
had been moved from the tomb, and were afterwards so 
affected by affright and joy, that they trembled and bowed 
their faces to the earth, and were almost speechless with 
amazement. 

4. It must not be overlooked that two of the historians 
in the foregoing passages make no mention of angels. 
Mark says that the women saw a young man in a long 
white garment, and Luke says that they say two men in 
shining garments. 

5. The above-mentioned circumstances affect the ac- 
counts now to be examined, as mere human accounts. 
A due regard to these circumstances is not at all incon- 
sistent with a full acknowledgment of the moral and intel- 
lectual competency of the persons concerned. When in 
accordance with the foregoing considerations I venture to 
doubt whether the women saw angels at the sepulchre, I 
do not distrust their statement of the testimony of then- 
senses, but only the inferences which, in the agitation of 
their minds, they drew from that testimony. And this 
distrust, I maintain, is dictated by the soundest principles 
of thought and interpretation. I do not say that the 
women thought they saw angels when they saw nothing, 



OF THE ACCOUNTS OF THE RESURRECTION. 291 

but that they misapprehended what they saw. Most 
assuredly I treat them with no disrespect. In the ac- 
counts of this very scene, we are expressly told of two 
mistakes which they made. When they saw the stone 
rolled away from the sepulchre, they instantly, without 
the slightest appearance of misgiving or doubt, caught at 
the idea that the body of Jesus had been stolen away. 
This mistake does not affect their testimony as to the fact 
that the stone was removed. On the contrary, it is so 
natural a mistake in the then state of their minds, that it 
goes to prove the reality of the fact of the removal of the 
stone. Nothing else could have suggested it. Again, 
Mary Magdalene saw Jesus and mistook him for the 
gardener. In view of these things, is there not room, in 
all candour and honesty, nay, are we not bound by a sin- 
cere anxiety to ascertain the real state of the case, to 
question the inferences which the women drew from what 
they saw? 

6. The misapprehension into which I am led to believe 
the women most naturally fell, not only does not affect 
the reality of the one great fact, the re-appearance of 
Jesus alive after his death, it lays bare a mass of the 
most powerful evidence in its favour. Nothing accounts 
for the misapprehension but the actual presence of Jesus, 
and this accounts for it in a way the most natural and 
wholly undesigned. Thus Nature, unconsciously work- 
ing in the hearts and the imagination of the women, be- 
comes a witness to the truth, and evidence of this kind 
produces a depth of conviction which the concurrent tes- 



292 THE REPORT OP THE GUARD. 

timony of a thousand express assertors of the fact never 
could create. 

Let us now, keeping the records before us, mark the 
circumstances that occurred, and the order in which they 
took place. 

Matthew gives us to understand that, after the women 
reached the sepulchre, " there was an earthquake, and an 
angel, with a countenance like lightning, and raiment 
white as snow, descended from Heaven, and came, and 
rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it." 
But all the other accounts state that, when the women 
reached the tomb, the stone was already rolled away. 
So that the story of the earthquake and the descending 
angel with a countenance like lightning and raiment 
white as snow, must have been told by the soldiers 
stationed as a guard at the sepulchre, who it is said 
were so terrified that " they shook and became as dead 
men !"* There can be no reason why we should not 
carefully sift the statement of these men, particularly 
as it is said they were overpowered with fear, a 
passion which more or less disturbs the power of 
correct observation, and always disposes to exaggera- 
tion. Whether they were understood, or whether they 
meant to be understood as saying, that they saw the 
angel descend visibly from Heaven, is by no means cer- 
tain. If they believed that they saw an angel, they would 

* If the women were present when the stone was rolled away, the 
suspicion would scarcely have been entertained that the body had 
been removed. 



THE REPORT OF THE GUARD. 293 

naturally suppose that he came down from Heaven, and 
express themselves accordingly. It is worthy of notice, 
that the earthquake is first mentioned, though it appears 
to be represented as if produced by the angel. The fact 
which most obviously and naturally explains this story 
of the earthquake and the angel seems to me to be this : 
Before it was light, and before the women reached the 
sepulchre, and when there were no persons at the spot but 
the guard, Jesus, restored to life, by the extraordinary 
power with which he was gifted rolled away the stone 
and came forth from the sepulchre, clad in the long white 
habiliments of the grave. The motion of the stone which 
was "very great," shook the earth, and, as there had 
been an earthquake the day but one before, the idea of a 
similar occurrence at once and naturally suggested itself 
to the minds of the soldiers, who, notwithstanding their 
violent and daring mode of life, were no doubt, as such 
men frequently are, very susceptible of superstitious fears, 
and likely to be panic-struck by a circumstance in itself 
so startling. The sudden motion of the stone, and the 
appearance of a figure clad in white, filled them with a 
mortal dread, and they fled in haste and affright to the 
city, reporting that an angel had descended from Heaven 
with a countenance like lightning, and raiment white as 
snow ; that the earth had shaken, and this supernatural 
messenger had moved the stone from the mouth of the 
tomb and sat upon it. If we take the report of the sol- 
diers to the letter, then we make no allowance for the 
strong tendency of fear to exaggeration. That fear air 
25* 



?94 THE REPORT OF THE GUARD. 

ways magnifies its object, is a fact as certain as any per- 
taining to the constitution of man. And to attach no 
importance to this disturbing influence in the present 
case, is as unphilosophical as, in calculating the orbit of 
one of the heavenly bodies, to make no account of the 
forces of the other bodies which most nearly approach it. 
It is interesting to observe how much the story told by 
the soldiers proves when thus understood. It may be 
asked, how do we know but that this whole account of 
a guard stationed at the sepulchre is a mere fabrica- 
tion, designed to make the resurrection of Jesus appear 
more marvellous and true] It is found in only one of 
the four Histories. The others say nothing of any sol- 
diers at the tomb. In reply I observe that the very 
fact that only one of the histories makes any men- 
tion of the guard, shows that no great importance was 
attached to their presence on the spot by the personal 
followers of Jesus. The disciples, it is most probable, 
knew nothing until after his resurrection about the tomb's 
being watched.* And then the evidence they had of 
this fact was so full and satisfying, that it was a small 
matter to them what the guard said, or whether there 
was any guard at all at the sepulchre. But this is not 
all. The very story which the soldiers told, bearing all 
the natural marks of exaggeration, showing so undesign- 
edly that it emanated from minds overpowered with 
terror, establishes, in a manner unspeakably impressive, 

* The women certainly did not. Otherwise they could hardly 
have visited the tomb with the object they had in view. 



THE WOMEN AT THE SEPULCHRE. 295 

the fact that there were persons there, human minds and 
human senses, thus to be acted upon. 

Immediately after the departure of the guard, some 
women, friends and relatives of Jesus, approached the 
sepulchre. They brought spices with them to embalm 
the body. They came before the dawn of day, partly 
perhaps to avoid observation, and partly, that no time 
might be lost in the performance of the sacred offices of 
humanity. As they drew near the spot, questioning 
among themselves, whom they should procure to roll 
away the stone from the entrance of the tomb, they ob- 
served that it was already rolled away. Taking alarm 
at this circumstance, they instantly and most naturally 
surmised, having so recently witnessed the relentless 
hatred of his enemies, and thinking of him as the unresist- 
ing object of the bitterest persecution, that the body of 
Jesus must have been removed from the place where his 
friends had laid it. Without waiting to ascertain the cor- 
rectness of the inference, Mary of Magdala rushed back 
to the city to inform the disciples. John, who alone 
relates the circumstance of Mary's immediate return to 
the city, does not mention that any other women accom- 
panied her to the tomb. Still, in the most incidental 
manner, it appears even from his narrative, taken by itself, 
that others had gone with her to the sepulchre. He tells us 
that upon her arrival in the city, Mary said to Peter and 
himself, " They have taken away the master out of the 
sepulchre, and we know not where they have laid him." 
After Mary had left the place, the other women who 



296 ' THE YOUNG MAN IN A LONG WHITE GARMENT.' 

stood at the mouth of the sepulchre, full of surprise and 
wondering what the removal of the stone could mean, 
were unexpectedly accosted by what appeared to them, 
as Mark says, ' a young man in a long white garment,' 
or, as Luke says, ' by two men in shining garments, or, 
according to Matthew, by the angel ' with raiment white 
as snow, 1 that rolled away the stone. This person, as I 
suppose, was Jesus himself, just restored to life and still 
arrayed in the long white linen in which his body was 
wrapt when it was taken from the cross. In the dimness 
of the light, the long white garment of this unknown 
person, " the fine linen," was the most prominent circum- 
stance. Accordingly we find it mentioned in all the ac- 
counts. But Luke mentions two persons clad in white. 
Were there two ? I am aware that the mention of only 
one by Matthew and Mark does not prove positively that 
there were not two. As a general rule the omissions of 
one witness do not negative the assertions of another. 
Still in the case of such extraordinary appearances, the 
omission is not so natural as if the facts related were of 
a more common character. Besides, if there were two, 
although only one spoke, he would have spoken, or he 
would have been reported to speak, in the plural. But 
there is no use of the plural in what was said by this un- 
known person as reported by either of the historians, and 
Matthew represents the angel as using the first person 
singular.* And further, the tendency of fear is to mag- 

* Although John omits to mention the women who accompanied 
M,!ry to the tomb, yet he reports her as saying upon her return to the 



* THE TWO MEN IN SHINING GARMENTS. 1 297 

nify. So that on the whole, if we had no other means of 
settling this difficulty, it seems to me more natural that 
two should be made out of one than that the contrary 
should have been the case. But there is another circum- 
stance that throws light on this point. When Jesus came 
to life, he must have thrown off the cloth that was wrapt 
over his face, and it probably lay near the place where his 
head had rested. When we recollect how often, in a dim 
light, white objects have been converted into apparitions 
by the imagination, and how our ideas of the costume of 
spirits are unconsciously connected with the habiliments 
of the grave,* is it difficult to perceive that that part of 
the grave-clothes which Jesus had put off from his head, 
lying by itself, may have appeared to the highly excited 
imaginations of some, or all the women, as another person'? 
Suddenly addressed by a person in white, they may have 
been led in the bewilderment of their minds, by the prox- 
imity of another white appearance, to conclude there were 
two persons present in white. Let me repeat here, it is 
not the senses of the women, whose evidence I am ques- 
tioning, but the inferences which, in the precipitation of 
their terror, they drew from what they saw and heard. 
From the circumstance that the person who spoke to 
them knew them, and knew the object which brought 

city, " we know not where they have laid him." Here is an instance 
illustrative of the above remark. 

* " Antiquissimae enim hoc apud ipsos est consuetudinis in vesti- 
mentis albis tumulo mortuos mandare." Vide Johann. Buxtorfii 
Synagr. Jud. p. 700. 



298 THE ADDRESS OF THE UNKNOWN PERSON. 

them to the place, they as naturally believed that they 
were in the presence of supernatural beings. 

How do the lights of truth and nature break upon us 
as we proceed ! That we should ever have questioned 
the inspiration of these histories! They are full of it to 
overflowing, — the divine Inspiration of Nature. 

Before Jesus addressed the women, he may have dis- 
covered from their voices — from their exclamations of 
surprise — that they were friends of his. Possibly the 
sound of their approach had caused him to retire into the 
tomb, from which he had issued a little while before, to 
the terror of the soldiers. With that perfect collectedness 
which marked his conduct even in moments when all 
around him were excited, he does not attempt to make 
himself known at a time when the dimness of the light 
rendered it at least doubtful whether the women would 
recognise him, when their coming to the spot showed 
that they had no idea of seeing him alive, and when, 
more than all, he does not appear to have been prepared 
to disclose himself. He speaks of himself in the third 
person, and seeks to allay their alarm. " Be not afraid, 
ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is 
risen, he is not here :* behold the place where they laid 
him," that is, see, the tomb is empty. " But, go your way. 

* It may be objected that, if it had been Jesus speaking, he could 
not have said with truth, " He is not here." The meaning of these 
words evidently is, the dead body is not here, here in the tomb, as 
you expect to find it. But it is not necessary to suppose that the pre- 
cise words are reported. -*H 



PETER AND JOHN RUN TO THE TOMB. 299 

Tell his disciples and Peter, that he goeth before you into 
Galilee ; there shall ye see him, as he said unto you." 
These words are differently reported by the three histo- 
rians. The agitation of the women, which was so great 
that, as we are told, " they bowed their faces to the 
earth," accounts for the variation. The introduction of 
the name of Peter is touchingly characteristic of Jesus, 
and betrays the speaker. Peter had basely denied all 
knowledge of his master, and well might he doubt, when 
he should hear that Jesus had risen, whether he would be 
forgiven an act, which he could bring himself to forgive 
only at the price of a long and bitter repentance. Well 
might he fear that those eyes would be coldly averted 
from him, the awful calmness of whose glance, the last 
time they were turned upon him. had sent into his soul 
the sharpest agony of remorse. But this most generous 
friend hastened to assure his unhappy disciple that the 
past was forgotten. The women, having received this 
message, and believing they had received it from an 
angel, returned with great haste to the city. Let the 
language of the history be remarked : " they trembled 
and were amazed, neither said they anything to any one : 
for they were afraid." 

After their departure, Peter and John, to whom Mary 
Magdalene had carried the intelligence of the removal of 
the stone, or rather of the body, for so she construed 
what she had seen, arrived at the sepulchre. Before they 
reached the spot, Jesus having found some garments be- 



300 THEY FIND ONLY THE GRAVE-CLOTHES. 

longing, it has been conjectured, to the gardener,* put off 
the linen clothes in which his body had been wrapt, throw- 
ing off, as I have already said, the cloth which was about 
his head, so that it lay near where his head had lain, 
while the remainder he left at the foot of the place where 
his body had been deposited. John informs us that when 
he reached the spot, which he did before Peter, he did 
not dare to go in. A natural feeling of hesitation came 
over him, and he waited for Peter, who, with characteris- 
tic ardour, as soon as he reached the sepulchre, went 
boldly in. John followed him. They saw no angel. But 
John mentions with remarkable particularity how they 
found the grave-clothes, — " the cloth that was about his 
head, not lying with the linen clothes, but wrapped to- 
gether in a place by itself." This minuteness, although 
the reason of it is not at once obvious, is very natural, and 
strikes my mind with great force. These two disciples 
had run to the tomb under the impression communicated 
by Mary, that the body of Jesus had been removed. 
Full of this idea they were greatly surprised at seeing 
the grave-clothes ; and it perplexed them to understand 

* If it be considered a question of any interest or importance, how 
Jesus obtained other and more appropriate clothes, more than one 
method of solving the difficulty might be proposed. But perhaps it 
will suffice to remark that the loose garments of the East were easily 
put on and off, and that there had been a number of persons in the 
vicinity of the sepulchre, Joseph of Arimathca with his attendants, 
and afterwards the Roman soldiers. So that it is easy to conjecture 
how some garments may have been left there. 



THEY BELIEVE THE REPORT OP MARY. 301 

why, if the body had been taken away, the grave-clothes 
had not been taken also — why they should have been left 
folded up with the appearance of so much deliberation. 
It may be thought strange that the recollection of their 
Master's prediction did not at this moment flash upon 
them, and lead them to suspect that he had risen. In the 
entire absence of any such suspicion, I recognise the 
unequivocal working of nature. Peter and John were 
excited by surprise. Now, every one knows that, when 
any strong feeling is awakened and we are deeply moved, 
we are not only incapable of calm and connected thought, 
but the most obvious conclusions are generally the first 
to be overlooked ; and when our emotion subsides, we 
are accustomed to find nothing so wonderful as our own 
want of thought and recollection. This was, I conceive, 
precisely the case with the two disciples. The quick be- 
lief of Mary that the body had been removed, communi- 
cated to them with every look and tone of certainty, had 
full possession of their minds. This idea they ran to the 
tomb to verify or to remove. They did not go to see 
whether Jesus had risen, but to ascertain whether the 
body was there. Intent upon this one point, in their 
hurry, when they found that the body was indeed gone, 
then, as John informs us, they "believed" — not, certainly, 
that Jesus had risen, but that what Mary had said was 
true, that the body was gone. " For as yet they knew not 
the scripture that he must rise from the dead."* 

* The editors of the Improved Version, (following Newcome,) 
have introduced the negative in John xx. 8, "he saw, and believed 
26 



302 MARY, LEFT ALONE AT THE TOMB. 

After examining the sepulchre, Peter and John returned 
home, and left Mary standing near the sepulchre weeping. 
We may suppose that Peter and John, running very 
swiftly, reached the tomb before Mary, and that when 
they came out, they said nothing to her except to intimate 
that it was even so — that the body had disappeared. 
Possibly they uttered not a word. But she may have 
gathered from their looks and manner that they had found 
it as she had said. " And as she wept," one of the ac- 
counts informs us, " she stooped down and looked into 
the sepulchre, and seeth two angels in white, sitting, the 
one at the head, and the other at fhe feet, where the body 
of Jesus had lain. And they say unto her ' Woman, why 
weepest thou V She saith unto them, 'Because they have 
taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have 
laid him.' " This passage is very curious, and I intreat 
the close attention of the reader. 

In the first place it is to be considered that the sepul- 
chre was dark in a degree, and that Mary's eyes were 
dimmed with tears. 

not" in order to accommodate the text to an interpretation which the 
slightest glance at the ninth verse shows to be an improbable inter- 
pretation, to say the least. The authority of Griesbach is in favour 
of the common reading. Even Gilbert West, in his well-known 
" Observations on the History and Evidence of the Resurrection, 
&c," refers the belief of John to the fact of the resurrection of Jesus, 
and not to the report of Mary that the body had been removed. See 
Watson's Tracts, vol. v. p. 320. Priestley also makes the same re- 
ference. 



HER ACCOUNT OF WHAT SHE SAW, EXAMINED. 303 

2. If what she saw were really angels, it deserves 
notice that they served no purpose. They communicated 
no intelligence. 

3. If, the moment she caught sight of them, they spoke 
to her, it is somewhat strange and unnatural that she 
should have answered them with so much collected- 
ness. 

4. On the other hand, if she had full and deliberate 
view of them, it is equally or more strange that she 
should have answered them as she did, retaining the im- 
pression that the body had been taken away, w T hen the 
supernatural vision before her was so powerfully calcu- 
lated to check her tears instantly, and to suggest the idea 
that God and not man had visited the sepulchre. 

Finally, it is remarkable that, as soon as she had an- 
swered the question, she turned round and saw Jesus 
standing near her, not knowing that it was he. Are we 
too bold in suspecting that she mistook what she saw in 
the sepulchre, a dark place comparatively, when, at almost 
the same moment, she mistook the familiar countenance 
of one standing in the open air, and in the morning light ! 
If she had seen angels in the tomb, would she have turn- 
ed away so readily 1 Would she not have been prepared 
to recognise Jesus 1 Would she have turned round im- 
mediately, forgetting the angels apparently, still persist- 
ing in the idea that the body of Jesus had been stolen, 
and said to him, in reply to his questions, ' Woman, why 
weepest thou, whom seekest thou,' supposing him to be 



304 THE " TWO ANGELS IN WHITE," 

the gardener ! " Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me 
where thou hast laid him, and I will take him away." 
I do not suggest these questions' captiously, but with a 
desire, which no apprehension of being misunderstood 
can repress, to ascertain the truth. 

From a careful consideration of these circumstances, I 
arrive at the following view of the case. I suppose that 
as Mary stood weeping by the sepulchre, she stooped 
dowm and looked into it. Her attention was immediately 
arrested by the white appearances — the grave clothes 
which lay there. I do not suppose that she knew what 
it was she saw. As she believed that the body had been 
taken away, she must have presumed, before she looked 
into the tomb, that the grave clothes were taken away 
also. I do not imagine that she was alarmed, but only 
perplexed, somewhat surprised, as Peter and John had 
just been before. I doubt whether she thought at the 
moment that she saw angels, as the two disciples had 
just come out of the tomb, and though their appearance 
may have indicated concern and perplexity, they had 
shown no signs of having seen anything supernatural in 
the sepulchre. Just as she looked into the tomb, and 
caught sight of the white objects, a voice addressed her, 
producing a slight bewilderment but hardly fear. Before 
she had finished answering it, her ear caught the sound 
of some one approaching behind her, and she immediately 
turned round and saw Jesus, but did not at once recog- 
nise him. Not dreaming of seeing him alive, she did not 



SEEN BY MARY. 305 

turn fully round at first,* she merely glanced at the per- 
son who spoke to her. Natural enough, too, is it to sup- 
pose that in telling the cause of her grief, in alluding to 
her lost friend, her tears burst forth afresh, until she was 
almost blinded with them. I suppose that the first ques- 
tion, ' Woman, why weepest thou V which in the history 
is attributed to the angels, was put by Jesus, who, unob- 
served himself, had approached her and seen her attitude 
of grief It may be doubted whether at the moment Mary 
supposed that the first question came from the sepulchre. 
I presume that at first she did not exactly know — scarcely 
thought from what direction it came. Before she finished 
her reply she heard some one near her. As soon as he 
turned round, Jesus repeated the question, ' Woman, why 
weepest thou V adding, ' whom seekest thou 1' This ad- 
dition countenances the conjecture that the question, 
which Mary afterwards supposed came from the angels, 
was in fact put by Jesus standing behind her, unob- 
served. Nothing is more natural and common, when we 
have addressed an interrogatory to another, and received 
no direct reply, than to repeat it with additions in a va- 
ried form. 

When Jesus perceived that Mary did not know him, 
he said unto her " Mary !" The tone of that voice thrilled 
her whole frame. How simple and touching — how true 

*'She did not turn fully rcund at first.' This appears from the 
circumstance that shortly afterwards, when Jesus said unto her 

"' Mary,' she turned herself, and said," &c. 
28 * 



306 "MARY!" "RABBONt!" 

to nature and to the character of Jesus was this mode of 
making himself known ! There is a divine simplicity here 
which the heart feels, but the pen in vain attempts to de- 
scribe. How vividly does the scene present itself before 
us ! We hear that beloved voice uttering in a subdued, 
half-inquiring tone of tenderness and solemnity, the simple 
name of Mary. We see her countenance and whole 
frame suddenly convulsed by the most powerful emotions 
of amazement, awe, and delight. At one moment she 
shrinks back with uplifted hands, and with eyes starting 
from their sockets, and at the next falls clasping his knees 
and gasping out the exclamation, "Rabboni!"* 

When Mary had recognised Jesus, he said unto her, 
" Touch me not: for I am not yet ascended to my Fa- 

*See page 204. The remarks there made upon the retaining of the 
original in the case of two of the miracles, are applicable to the same 
feature of the narrative here. The word 'Rabboni' is a common 
word, and the narrator translates it immediately. But words are 
often untranslateable, less for the want of terms significant of the same 
meaning in the language into which the translation is made, than 
from the absence of some strong but indefinable associations which 
give to the original a peculiar expressiveness. Hence it is that poetry 
so seldom survives translation. The exclamation " Rabboni !" was 
the inspiration of the moment, the symbol which was seized by Na- 
ture, working mightily in and through the deepest emotions of Mary, 
whereby to express itself. Thus this particular sound had to Mary 
herself and to those who listened to her story a power of expression, 
which no other articulate sound could convey. What volumes does 
this one word speak for the reality of the great fact, the appearance 
of Jesus alive, which produced such overwhelming emotion! 



MARY HELD JESUS BY HIS FEET. 307 

ther : but go to my brethren and say unto them, I ascend 
unto my Father and your Father, and to my God and 
your God." These words are obscure. But a natural 
explanation results from a reference to Matthew's account. 
Matthew says that Jesus appeared first, as they were re- 
turning, to all the women who visited the tomb. It is na- 
tural that such a mistake should have arisen in the hurry 
with which these exciting events followed one another. 
Shortly after the women had come into the city, saying 
they had seen angels at the sepulchre, who said that 
Jesus had risen, Mary came in saying she had seen Jesus 
himself. Now as, in the first instance, all the women, 
Mary with the rest, had gone out to the tomb, it is natu- 
ral that the story of the women should have been blended 
with that of Mary, and that it should have been under- 
stood by some, that all the women had seen Jesus. Mat- 
thew tells us that when the women saw Jesus, they fell 
down and held him by his feet. Now as it was Mary 
only to whom Jesus appeared, it must have been Mary 
who held him by his feet. He said unto her, therefore, 
in effect, ' Detain me not, do not stop now to embrace 
me, for I do not yet ascend to my Father. You will 
have other opportunities of seeing me ; Go now to my 
brethren and tell them, &c.' When Mary told the dis- 
ciples she had seen their master alive, as they were in- 
credulous, they intimated, in all probability, that it was an 
illusion of which she had been the subject, that she had 
seen a spectre. She would naturally insist, in reply, that 
she had not only seen him, but that she had touched him, 



308 THE STORY OF THE RESURRECTION, 

— that she had held him by his feet, and knew that it was 
real flesh and blood. Hence the phrase in Matthew, ' and 
they held him by his feet.' As upon this act of embracing 
the feet of Jesus much stress must have been In id, as an 
evidence of the touch to the reality of his appearance, it 
is possible that the exact wo: ds addressed to Mary by 
Jesus may have been altered, and he may have been 
made to say " Touch me not," when he used a term 
nearly synonymous but less obscure. 

After Mary had seen Jesus, she returned to the city. 
There she met the other women, and found that they had 
seen what they considered as angels. Was it not very 
natural then that she should instantly conclude that the 
white objects, which she had seen in the sepulchre, were 
the very angels who had been seen by her friends, and 
had spoken to them 1 The appearances which had startled 
her were now explained. And when afterwards she re- 
lated her part in the exciting scenes of that eventful morn- 
ing, she hesitated not to say that she had seen the angels. 

Throughout these portions of the New Testament 
which we have now examined, there is the fine working 
of Nature, free, true, and unsophisticated But it is not 
ostentatiously pointed out and displayed. The writers of 
the histories seem utterly unconscious of it. It is revealed 
wholly without design. The fact of the re-appearance of 
Jesus alive is involved in this seamless and living web of 
Nature, not woven by hands, to which it gives beauty 
and perfection, and in which it is arrayed, so that this 
great fact of the Resurrection comes before us clad in the 



FULL OF NATURE. 309 

graceful and imperishable garb of Truth. In a word, the 
unconscious naturalness of the states of mind disclosed 
in the participants of these thrilling scenes, is revealed 
by the supposition of the unrecognised presence of Jesus, 
and this again is in its turn corroborated by all the nature 
which it reveals. 

At first view the four accounts of the resurrection of 
Jesus appear to be altogether irregular, brief and fragmen- 
tary. And so perhaps they are when tried by the formal 
and narrow principles of human systems and tribunals. 
When these historians are treated as witnesses in human 
courts sometimes are, subjected only to such interroga- 
tories as one and another may be disposed to put to serve 
some private cause — some partisan purpose — it must be 
confessed they make but a poor appearance. Oftentimes 
they are but dumb witnesses, and again their answers 
appear vague, wandering, and aimless. But let them be 
questioned by a simple love of truth, mingled with a wise 
reverence for nature, and then they are transfigured, and 
truth and nature recognise in them their own inspiration. 
And these writings in the most important and interesting 
sense are wonderful for the harmony and completeness 
they display. 

Even if we had no knowledge of the precise circum- 
stances under which the first appearance of Jesus after 
his resurrection took place, that he did re-appear after his 
death I could not doubt, not merely because so many in- 
stances of his presenting himself to his disciples are ex- 



310 THE IDENTITY OF JESUS PRESERVED. 

pressly specified, but because, without any effort or de- 
sign on the part of the historians, the identity of his cha- 
racter before and after his death is so perfectly preserved. 
It is impossible that any one could have fabricated a per- 
sonage whose tone of sentiment and expression should 
be in perfect accordance with that wonderful being who 
had a little while before expired on the Cross. No human 
art could have added another chapter to that life. How 
characteristic in its simplicity the manner in which he 
made himself known to Mary ! We recognise him almost 
as readily as she did. Again, how like Jesus those words 
addressed to the incredulous disciple, " Thomas, because 
thou hast seen me, thou hast believed : blessed are they 
that have not seen, and yet have believed." Once more, 
that thrice repeated question addressed to Peter,* ' Simon, 
son of Jonas, lovest thou me V how wonderfully is it in 
keeping with the character of Jesus, and with all that had 
gone before ! How delicately, and yet how powerfully 
was it fitted to induce Peter to search his own soul, and 
abate something of that self-confidence which had, on 
former occasions, been so fatal to him. Besides, if Jesus 
had not re-appeared, I am wholly at a loss to conceive 
how his religion could have escaped being buried with 
him. When he expired on the Cross, there was not a 
single human mind that at all appreciated his purpose or 
cherished his spirit. 

Here, in its obvious necessity to give light and^impulse 

* Sec John xxi, 15 — 19. 



THE PURPOSE OF HIS RESURRECTION. 311 

to his followers, do I discover the principal object of his 
resurrection. I am aware that the general belief is that 
he rose from the dead to establish the doctrine of the life 
beyond the grave. But it is not in this way that Christ 
confirms my hope of immortality. I behold in him, in all 
that he said and did, the exhibition of a spiritual and im- 
mortal nature. If he had appeared in an angel's garb, and 
with an angel's wings, I could not have evidence that he 
belonged to another and imperishable world, so strong as 
that which presents itself not to my eye but to my soul — 
my consciousness — in his moral lineaments. In his spi- 
ritual truth and greatness I behold an unearthly halo, the 
living light of Eternity ; and as I discern and feel that, I 
feel and know myself to be possessed of a like immortal 
nature. So that it is not by the bare fact of his resurrec- 
tion that I am convinced of another and unending exist- 
ence. His resurrection, as it is a part and a prominent 
part of the grand spiritual manifestation, has its office in 
revealing the eternal world. But the primary purpose of 
his rising from the dead, as he himself more than once 
declared, was, like a sign from Heaven, to vindicate his 
authority. His authority it did establish gloriously, so far 
at least as his immediate followers were concerned. Al- 
though they continued to cherish the Jewish hope of an 
outward kingdom, still his death and resurrection wrought 
with them to induce them to postpone that fond hope, and 
though they never appear to have relinquished it alto- 
gether, yet it gave way in their minds to the authority of 



312 THE ASCENSION OF JESUS. 

him who had given such glorious attestations of the divi- 
nity of his mission and office. 

I do not intend to dwell upon his Ascension, because 
there is no language in any one of the four Gospels, that 
necessarily implies that he ascended visibly. Matthew 
and John do not say a word about his final disappear- 
ance. Mark says, " So then, after the Lord had spoken 
unto them, he was received up into heaven, and sat on 
the right hand of God." We might with as much reason 
infer from this language that they saw him seated on the 
right hand of God as that they saw him received up into 
Heaven. When he bade them farewell, they concluded 
of course that he had gone to Heaven, and that he was 
placed at the right hand of the Eternal throne, and they 
express themselves agreeably to this impression. And 
so Luke says, " And it came to pass while he blessed 
them, he was parted from them and carried up into Hea- 
ven." That he was separated from them is clear. They 
would so naturally conclude that he was carried up to 
Heaven, that we cannot determine from this language 
whether they mean to say that they saw him carried up, 
or whether it was only their inference. I can only say 
that I am deeply struck with the silence of these accounts 
as to the mode in which Jesus came and went on the va- 
rious occasions on which he presented himself to his dis- 
ciples. That he did appear again and again to different 
individuals, and to large numbers, they fearlessly declare. 
They are not deterred from stating the fact of his appear- 



THE CLOSE OF HIS HISTORY. 313 

ance at different times by any apprehension of the doubts 
that might be stated as to the manner in which he ap- 
peared and disappeared. If they were conscious of any 
difficulty on this point, they still do not hesitate to say that 
he did appear. But I imagine they were unconscious of 
difficulty. When he was present, they were too much 
filled with awe, too tremblingly impressed, too anxious 
to catch every word that fell from his lips, to speculate 
about the way in which he came and went. There is to 
my mind a sublimity in the darkness which wraps the 
close of this history, analogous to what we perceive in the 
ways of Providence and Nature. 



27 



314 



CHAPTER XIII. 



CONCLUSION. 



" If thou ask to what height man has carried it in this matter, 
look on our divinest symbol ; on Jesus of Nazareth, and his life, and 
his biography, and what followed therefrom. Higher has the human 
thought not yet reached. This is Christianity and Christendom ; a 
symbol of quite perennial, infinite character; whose significance 
will ever demand to be anew inquired into, and anew made mani- 
fest." 

In works upon the Evidences of Christianity, the ques- 
tion commonly discussed concerning the four Gospels is, 
4 Were they written by the persons whose names they 
bear V as if the settlement of this point were the strongest 
possible confirmation of our faith. But, I confess, all that 
I can learn of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, does not 
give me so lively a confidence in the authors of these 
histories as is created in me by the histories themselves. 
To say merely that they are honest and impartial, ap- 
pears to me most inadequate praise. By studying them 
in the manner which I have now attempted, I find my 
conceptions of the honest, the true, the candid, en- 
larged and enlightened. The character of Jesus is not 
more truly a revelation of moral greatness than these 



THE CHARACTER OF THE EVENTS RELATED. 315 

wonderful writings are, in their style and structure, of the 
quality of truth. That this is strong language I am 
aware; and perhaps there is little in the foregoing 
pages that seems to justify it. Still I do not wholly de- 
spair of having given the candid and intelligent reader 
some idea of the grounds upon which rests the conviction 
I have already expressed, that nowhere in the writings of 
the dead, or in the characters of the living, do I discern 
evidences of integrity and singleness of mind so luminous 
and affecting as those presented in the four Gospels. 

I beg the reader to pause for one moment, and consider 
the character of the events which constitute the sum and 
subtance of these narratives. How tremendously exciting 
must they have been ! The blind seeing, the lame walk- 
ing, the dead raised, the wretched and the profligate col- 
lected in crowds, listening to words of mercy and hope, 
multitudes thronging the highways bringing their sick, 
and pressing upon one another like the billows of a heav- 
ing sea ! If Jesus of Nazareth spoke and acted and suf- 
fered as he is here represented, how must the minds of 
men have boiled around him! How closely and with 
what power must he have approached their passions, 
prejudices, sentiments ! How must he, as with a giant's 
hand, have broken up all the fountains of wonder and 
fear and awe and hope, and made all hearts overflow 
with one or another passion ! 

Could you have been present, and by some strong phi- 
losophic effort, could you have torn off your attention 
from the absorbing interest of those scenes, and asked 



316 THE CHARACTER OF JESUS 

yourself the simple question, how can any idea of these 
things ever be communicated to those who do not see 
them, you would have exclaimed at once and aloud, ' It 
is impossible !' You might have glanced around upon 
those eager multitudes, but where would you have dis- 
covered a single calm observer 1 Where would you have 
seen a single eye that was not like a burning coal, a 
single bosom that was not heaving in tumultuous and 
overpowering sympathy with the unprecedented specta- 
cle ? You would indeed have seen One there, all calm 
and collected, the producer of all this emotion ; but the 
dovelike serenity of his demeanour would only have 
tended to deepen in your eyes the mystery and excite- 
ment of the scene. I repeat it you would have felt that 
it was impossible that any accounts could ever be given 
of events so exciting, save such as were wretchedly 
inadequate, or so coloured and exaggerated as to convey 
no just conception of the truth. When we witness any- 
thing that stirs up our feelings — any uncommon burst of 
eloquence for instance — we either give up in despair 
every attempt to describe what we have witnessed, or, 
in the attempt to describe it, the reality is most sadly 
marred and dwarfed, and we take that single step which 
separates the sublime from the ridiculous. 

Look now at the accounts which have come down to 
us of the wonderful words, works, and sufferings, of that 
unrivalled being who appeared some ages since in 
Judea. Perhaps they give us but a faint idea of the 
strange and stirring events of which they treat, and with 



CREATED HIS BIOGRAPHERS. 317 

all our efforts, our impressions, in distinctness and inten- 
sity, must fall far, very far short of those which were 
made upon the actual witnesses of the life of Jesus. 
The power of language was not equal to so great a sub- 
ject. Still from these records, such as they are, we derive 
ideas of moral beauty and greatness, to which no page 
in the world's history furnishes anything that we can 
compare. An instance of moral life is disclosed to us 
which stands alone and unapproached in its wholeness 
and symmetry. At the same time, abundant evidence 
is afforded in the course of these narratives that all 
around Jesus were more or less the creatures of feel- 
ing, ignorance, and prejudice, fettered by superstition, be- 
guiled by coarse hopes and dreams of outward splendour. 
Who were they, — our curiosity is immediately aroused to 
ask, — who were they that, among those excitable and ex- 
cited crowds, were able to observe so calmly, and report 
so correctly ; to look on and listen with eyes and ears and 
hearts so true, that, with a slight effort, we are able, in 
some few instances at least, to feel almost as if we were 
present on the spot, and the things related were passing 
visibly before us 2 To this question there is only one 
answer. The character of Jesus must have created his 
biographers. Whoever they were, whatever were their 
names, they must have been persons who by intimate 
association with him had imbibed some measure of his 
spirit, and that spirit, calm and true, had wrought upon 
their minds, to subdue the tumults of feeling, to chasten 
their imaginations, to subordinate their sensibility to the 

27 * 



318 THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS REVEALED, 

Wonderful to their sensibility to the True, in fine, to 
qualify them to see and hear aright, and to impart what 
they saw and heard. Upon examination we find, through- 
out these writings, the most touching indications of pre- 
cisely that calm and elevated tone of mind and feeling 
which association with such a one as Jesus was fitted 
to produce. In their unguardedness, in their unsuspect- 
ing simplicity, in their pervading unconsciousness, we 
see that these authors had completely lost themselves, lost 
all anxiety about effect, every disposition to embellish, in 
the abiding and absorbing sense of truth. The facts — 
facts of which they had such full knowledge, — filled their 
minds to the exclusion of all self-reference, all fears 
and misgivings. They tell right on what they know, 
taking no credit to themselves, and unconscious that there 
can be anything meritorious in a faithful relation of 
what so entirely possesses their minds. To the authors 
of the Gospels, so far as they are disclosed in their writ- 
ings, may be applied the language of Wordsworth in his 
Ode to Duty, 

" There are, who ask not if thine eye 
Be on them, who in love and troth 
Where no misgiving is, rely 
Upon the genial sense of youth ," 
Glad hearts ! without reproach or blot, 
Who do thy work and know it not." 

Not indeed " upon the genial sense of youth" did the 
Evangelists rely, but upon a kindred spirit. Between 
him and the young, of whom he said, " of such is the 



IN THE STYLE OF THE GOSPELS. 319 

kingdom of heaven," there was the greatest congeniality. 
His spirit had gradually infused itself into the mind of these 
writers, until it became as their life-blood, unconsciously 
animating all their thoughts, inspiring their words, and 
producing in them the simplicity, the " unchartered free- 
dom" of childhood. It cost them no effort to tell the 
truth. They could as well have ceased to breathe, as 
ceased to tell it, let the objections and difficulties it created 
be what they might. Their reverence for Jesus was so 
great, their confidence in him so entire, that they never 
appear to have thought that the most imperfect represen- 
tation of any part of his conduct was not enough — that he 
could ever need to be indebted to their pens to save him 
from being misunderstood. With the poet just quoted, 
they seem to have thought that their theme 

" might demand a seraph's tongue, 

Were it not equal to its own support; 
And therefore no incompetence of theirs 
Could do it wrong."* 

Accordingly they never think of explaining or setting off 
anything they relate concerning him. Thus they show 
how genuine was their love of their master. This 
love it was which was their " unerring light," their se- 
curity against every false bias, enabling them to see what 
they saw so nearly at the true point of view. 

That these writers could not have invented the extra- 
ordinary character which they have portrayed is, I trust, 

* The Excursion. Book 8. 



320 THE MISTAKES IN THE GOSPELS, 

abundantly clear from the whole structure of their narra- 
tives, wrought all over and inlaid with the characteristics 
not of fiction but of truth, and especially from the uncon- 
scious manner in which the character of Christ is de- 
scribed. The ability, if it existed, to produce so remark- 
able an invention, necessarily involves qualities of mind 
and heart, a fine sense of moral truth, utterly inconsistent 
with the delusion or fraud which such a fabrication would 
imply. But the ability did not exist. True and single- 
hearted as the authors of these biographies of Jesus show 
themselves to have been, still on more than one occasion 
it appears that there was a spirituality in his sentiments, 
a meaning in his words, which none of those around him, 
not even the best disposed, were able to fathom. But 
further. While it is impossible to conceive how the bio- 
graphers could have created such a character, it is easy 
to see how such a character produced the biographers. 
So far from supposing that they fabricated what they have 
told, the question is, how with their Jewish prejudices, 
with their human sensibilities, rendering them liable to be 
bewildered, carried away, and deluded by their feelings, 
they were able to attain to such a pervading truthfulness, 
and to represent Jesus, so nearly as they have done, 
to the life. That they have committed some errors and 
mistakes, I do not deny — I believe. That these are so 
(ew is the wonder. That there is so much truth in these 
narratives, so simply and truly exhibited — this it is that 
should surprise us, and for which we should seek a 
cause. The influence of Jesus at once adequately and 



OCCASIONED BY THE TRUTH. 321 

naturally explains the character of these writings ; and 
shows us how their authors became the honest, fearless, 
single-hearted men they have shown themselves to be. 
Where else but from him could they have derived the 
spirit that they breathe? In this way these histories 
are, in the truth of their structure, a tribute, none the less 
expressive because wholly undesigned, to the force of that 
remarkable character with which they bring us acquaint- 
ed. In their general tone and spirit they are as truly an 
illustration not merely of the existence but of the moral 
influence of Jesus, as any of the particular facts which 
they contain. 

I admit that there are errors and mistakes in the Gos- 
pels. This, I suppose, will be deemed a dangerous ad- 
mission. But let me not be misunderstood — I will not 
say, misrepresented, for I love to believe that these pages 
" will come under the perusal of ingenuous eyes and be 
felt a little by the hearts that look out of them." Let me 
not be misunderstood. I say there are mistakes in the 
Gospels. But they are precisely such mistakes as were 
occasioned by the truth. Where there are misconceptions 
there must be something, some reality, some fact, to be 
misconceived. Error implies Truth as the shadow implies 
the substance. Such at least is the character of the mis- 
takes which we discover in these writings. They result 
from the substantial truth of the main facts recorded, and 
they are undesignedly the most decisive evidences of the 
truth. For instance, these accounts differ as to the hour 
at which the Crucifixion of Jesus took place. Mark states 



322 CHRISTIANITY, EMBODIED 

that Jesus was crucified at the third hour. According 
to John, he was not given up by Pilate until about the 
sixth hour. Now admitting, as I conceive we must, not- 
withstanding the attempts which have been made to re- 
concile this difference, that one or the other of the narra- 
tors is in error, what does the error show? Not that 
Jesus was not crucified at all, — it goes to establish the fact 
by new and most natural evidence. The existence of the 
error discloses precisely such a state of mind, such an 
inability to note the lapse of time, as must have been 
produced in those nearly interested in an event so exci- 
ting. So also in the case of the resurrection of Jesus, the 
mistakes made by the women at the sepulchre furnish 
evidence undesigned and unanswerable to the reality of 
the main fact, the actual presence of Jesus alive. This it 
was that produced the mistakes, and produced them in a 
perfectly natural way. In short I conceive it may be 
confidently affirmed, that no error can be detected in 
these narratives which does not tend directly and deci- 
sively to establish far more than it does away. 

The books which we have now been examining are 
invaluable for the saving knowledge which they give us 
of Jesus Christ, of whose life they are the record, and of 
whose spirit they are an unconscious illustration. In him 
I see a revelation of religious truth, and consequently a 
disclosure of the will of God, a representation of the per- 
fection and destiny of man. When we see Jesus Christ 
as he is, we have come to the knowledge and possession 



IN THE LIFE OF CHRIST. 323 

of Christianity. He shows us what God is and what He 
would have us to be. In the spiritual and immortal line- 
aments of Jesus, we discover our own immortality, and 
in sympathy with him we come to feel and know our- 
selves to be immortal. To estimate him is to grow in 
Christian knowledge, and to become worthy of the Chris- 
tian name. 

It is a character of no ordinary force which has for 
eighteen hundred years commanded the respect of the 
world. Christianity, in the forms in which it has been 
for ages extensively represented, has shown but few fea- 
tures of a heavenly origin. It has been set forth before 
the world as a religion identified with a most magnificent 
and complicated structure of outward ceremonies. Its 
sanction has been claimed for the exercise of a power, 
which knew hardly any limit, over national affairs and 
the rights of private opinion. At one time it was promul- 
gated by bishops clad in mail and demanding faith at the 
point of the sword. And in all periods of its history, the 
appeal for its security and its triumphs has been directly 
made to the civil arm, or to those prejudices and passions 
which for ever war against human liberty. Under the 
banner of the Cross, that symbol of the divine power of 
an unresisting spirit, acts of the bloodiest violence have 
been perpetrated, the most merciless persecutions have 
been carried on. Opinions concerning God and man 
have been published under the name of Christianity, con- 
tradicting not only the first dictates of the understanding, 
but every natural sentiment of justice and mercy ; and 



324 THE IMMEDIATE SUCCESSORS OF CHRIST, 

the terrors of this world and the next have been threat- 
ened upon the faintest whisper of dissent. In fine, that 
which has been called Christianity, instead of taking its 
place in the van of human interests, has been found oppos- 
ing the progress of our race by all the weapons which 
ignorance and passion could supply. Not by one only, 
but by all denominations of its friends, has our Religion 
been made to occupy more or less decisively this posi- 
tion. 

When these things are considered, the question arises, 
'how comes it — by what means — by what principle of 
vitality — has Christianity maintained itself for long ages in 
the world ! Forced, through the unwise zeal of its friends, 
to ally itself with the worldly interests and passions of 
men, taking so little pains to address the better principles 
of our nature, — how is it that amidst all vicissitudes and 
the various and increasing lights of civilization, it has not 
long ago been shaken to its foundations, levelled with 
the dust, and swept away with the fragments of many 
preceding and contemporaneous empires?' I find the prin- 
cipal answer to this inquiry in the person of its Founder, 
in the simple force of his character. 

It was this which wrought the most powerfully for 
Christianity at its first introduction, when it came, un- 
armed with any worldly power, to rebuke the passions of 
the selfish, and dissipate the darkness which men loved. 
The great spring of action in the hearts of the first pro- 
mulgators of our religion was the sentiment of ardent af- 
fection and reverence with which Jesus Christ inspired 



INSPIRED BY AFFECTION FOR HIM. 325 

them. The love of Christ constrained them. It was for 
his sake that they accounted it joy and triumph to toil 
and suffer, and with the kindling idea of him were blend- 
ed their best hopes and aims. And this it was, by the 
way, which constituted the wide difference between him 
and them, and which makes his fortitude so much more 
wonderful than theirs. He had no human precedent to 
which he could look, and from which he might draw 
strength and animation. No one had gone before him 
by whose memory his human sympathies might be en- 
couraged, and whose example might cheer him onward. 
Only the highest source of Inspiration was open to him — 
the simple thought of God, and to appreciate this so that 
it might stand in the place of all other supports, an eleva- 
tion of mind was necessary of which we can but faintly 
conceive. His successors on the contrary were aided by 
all those human affections which found an all-animating 
object in him, and the devoted love which he awakened 
was their efficient motive to do and endure. 

It may be asked whether those, who were active in the 
first establishment of his religion, were not moved by 
those great moral principles which he taught. Undoubt- 
edly they were. But then it was these principles, not 
merely, nor chiefly, as they were presented in words 
to their understandings, but as they were far more di- 
vinely expressed in his character to their hearts. Truth, 
not abstractly, but as it filled and transfigured his whole 
being — this it was that kindled in them a noble zeal, " the 
light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of 

28 



326 HIS CHARACTER, 

Jesus Christ." What words could convey to them such 
a sentiment of love as was expressed in his Cross ! 

Or again it may be intimated that it was the miracles 
he wrought, that operated so powerfully in convincing 
and urging onward his followers. It is true his works of 
power did much ; they filled an important and indispen- 
sable place in producing that state of feeling in his disci- 
ples, requisite to qualify them to carry on what he had 
begun. But then the main power of his miracles lies not 
in their mere power, but in their relation to his character, 
which they help far more strikingly than anything else to 
glorify. What a depth of tenderness is laid open, how 
touching his meekness, what a new lustre is added to all 
the virtues he exemplified, when we consider them as the 
virtues of one, endowed with more than regal gifts ; with 
powers exceeding all that Fortune or Genius has ever 
bestowed on man ! Look at the case whichever way 
you will, the result is the same. It was by the force of 
his character that the apostles were swayed. 

And so it has been and must be always. No cause, 
religious or political, good or bad, has ever gained a foot- 
hold in the world, except by the impulse of a leading 
mind, the energy of some prominent character, some one 
individual, who has been to its adherents the embodiment 
of the object at which they have aimed. Individuals of 
this description have so often and so mournfully abused 
their influence to selfish purposes, they have been so 
ready to take advantage of the idolatrous attachment of 
their fellowmen, that it has failed to be seen how deeply 



THE WORD OF GOD. 327 

this mode of influence is founded in the nature of man. 
Thus the maxim has gone forth — " principles, not men," a 
sound maxim but only in a qualified' sense. The truth is 
principles at best are but imperfectly set forth in a verbal 
form. Language is an artificial sign and an inadequate 
one. It may meet and satisfy the understanding and 
answer important purposes, but it reaches the great 
springs of human action only indirectly and by aid of as- 
sociation. The conduct, the life of a human being is the 
true, natural, divine symbol whereby great truths are 
made to kindle our strongest affections. So that in the 
very nature of things, men, living men are required to ex- 
press in their lives to other men, the great purposes with 
reference to which they are to be moved. 

I make these remarks to show that the stamp of divinity 
is as visible upon the mode in which Christianity has been 
communicated to man as upon its substance. The great 
truths, the paternal providence of God and another life, 
have been acknowledged to be great and important, 
worthy of God to teach. But the manner in which they 
have been revealed has not been recognised, as equally 
worthy of the Deity. ' Why,' it has often been asked, 
' why were not these truths written out upon the firma- 
ment, so that all men might read without the possibility of 
mistake, or proclaimed, as by an archangel's trump, so that 
the whole world might hear V Alas ! there is much writ- 
ten from of old in unfading characters all over the sky, 
the earth and the sea. There are myriads of voices 
sounding on from eternity to eternity through all the 



328 THE LIFE OP JESU3, 

heights and depths of the universe, — but where is the see- 
ing eye, the hearing earl Such methods of revelation 
as I now refer to, are mere human propositions. The 
mode actually adopted in the Christian dispensation har- 
monizes perfectly with the deepest principles of human 
nature, and displays the same wisdom by which that 
nature was fashioned. Man has been addressed through 
man. One has been raised up to communicate the life of 
truth through his own life, to point men not into space 
but into their own souls, there to read the will and behold 
the countenance and feel the spirit of God. In his spi- 
ritual features beams the glory of God. The character of 
Christ is the Rock of Christian faith, the high tower 
which cannot be hid by the thickest clouds which steam 
up from the ignorance and corruption of earth, and which 
assures us that the city of God is there, the dwelling place 
of unchanging Truth. 

As it was from the character of its Founder that Chris- 
tianity received its first impulse, so by the same force has 
it been sustained under the crushing weight of the corrup- 
tions by which its brightness has been darkened and its 
beauty deformed, and from the enormity of these corrup- 
tions we may form some idea of the force by which they 
have been resisted. This has been its shield amidst the 
deep wounds which it has received in the house of its 
friends. The common impression is, that it owes the 
influence it has retained, amidst the errors of its adherents, 
to its great moral principles. True. But, to repeat what 
I have said, these principles in an abstract, verbal form, 



THE SOUL OP HIS RELIGION. 329 

separated from the life of him by whom they were pro- 
mulgated, lose nearly all their peculiar power. A moral 
system of almost equal excellence might be gathered from 
the records of ancient wisdom. Gibbon has remarked 
in one of his notes that he finds the great social law of 
Christian love stated in the plainest terms by & writer 
who flourished ages before Christ. Take from Chris- 
tianity the original exposition of truth which it presents 
in its Founder, suppose it to have been first taught by 
one whose life gave no significance to his words, and it is 
evident at once how much it must lose. On the con- 
trary, we might erase from the Christian Records every 
general precept, yet so long as the acts and sufferings of 
Jesus wei e remembered they would retain an all-command- 
ing influence. The superiority of actions to words has 
passed into a proverb. But where is it so strikingly 
shown as in the Religion of Jesus Christ? His precepts 
recommend themselves to our reason ; but the application 
we allow them is narrow or comprehensive according 
as we appreciate him. We understand them no further 
than we understand him. When men, outraged by its 
corruptions, have been disposed to abjure Christianity 
altogether, the pure and generous character of its author, 
dimly discerned indeed, but yet seen in something of its 
truth, has commanded their respect and prevented them 
from rejecting a religion promulgated by lips so pure and 
eloquent. The greatest sceptics have confessed that the 
character of Christ is too great and too natural not to be 
a reality. 

28* 



330 WHERE HIS CHARACTER IS FELT, 

When we turn from the past to the present and the 
future, and inquire by what means the improvement of 
mankind individually and collectively is to be most effec- 
tually promoted, we find in the character of Christ un- 
told resources of wealth and power. " Political reform, 
pressingly enough wanted, can indeed root out the weeds ; 
but it leaves the ground empty, ready either for noble 
fruits, or new worse tares ! And how else is a moral re- 
form to be looked for but in this way, that more and 
more good men are, by a bountiful Providence, sent 
hither to disseminate Goodness ; literally to sow it, as in 
seeds shaken abroad by the living tree ! For such in all 
ages and places is the nature of a good man ; he is ever 
a mystic, creative centre of goodness ; his influence, if 
we consider it, is not to be measured ; for his works do 
not die, but being of eternity, are eternal ; and in new 
transformation and ever wider diffusion, endure, living 
and life-giving." Then let him whose character is ac- 
knowledged to be the best and purest ever exhibited on 
earth — let him live in the faith and imagination of men. 
To ascertain our destiny — to know the hidden aim of 
our being, we need not gaze into the sky, or pry fruit- 
lessly into Futurity. The end of life is revealed in Jesus 
Christ. He is the model whereby all men may fashion 
themselves. When he appears, not personally but morally, 
not to the outward eye, but to the inward sense, we shall 
become like him for we shall see him as he is. 

When the character of Christ is felt, then exists that 
principle of action denominated in the Scriptures, faith, — 



THERE EXISTS FAITH. 331 

the faith that saves the soul. Then will the destiny of 
man be realized. He who contemplates Jesus Christ, as 
he is presented in the brief and simple sketches of his life, 
as a pattern of disinterestedness, self-command, and piety, 
before whose imagination and affections that wonderful 
being stands distinctly revealed, such a one must feel 
the force of the character of Christ. He beholds a being, 
the greatest that ever trod this earth, not merely for the 
extraordinary powers he possessed, but for the uniform 
humility, the touching self-forgetfulness, with which he 
bore his great gifts ; one who disregarded all the seduc- 
tions of ambition and power, in whom the hosannas of 
multitudes never excited one throb of vain glory, whose 
tenderness, overflowing all artificial distinctions, poured a 
tide of mercy into the hearts of the degraded and misera- 
ble ; one who suffered fatigue and hunger and thirst, and 
contumely and violence, that he might comfort, correct 
and bless our race ; out of whose heart in the very 
agonies of death, broke words of affection for his mother, 
and prayers for those who tortured him. Such was the 
man of Nazareth. But how vain are words to describe 
his original excellence! Could we only bring up before 
our minds, the spotless and venerable idea of him ; could 
our cold and sluggish imaginations only picture him in 
his youth, in the serenity of that blessed countenance, in 
that attitude of unspeakable love, yearning to gather the 
whole family of the suffering and afflicted, even as a bird 
gathereth her young under her wings ; — could the eye of 
the soul be so cleansed as to see him as he was, then we 



332 IN THE LOVE OF HIM 

should not need to be told of the power of his character. 
In the reverence, gratitude, and love which would over- 
flow our minds, gushing up from a thousand hidden 
springs, we should have a present proof of his moral 
force, of his power to sweep away from the heart all the 
false idols and temples we erect there, and to cover it 
with the unfading verdure and the immortal fruits of 
true and evergrowing goodness. If we have ever been 
in any degree impressed with the wisdom and excellence 
of Jesus, by the emotions we have sometimes felt, let us 
pause and consider what a transformation must be 
wrought in him, who discerns this illustrious being not 
partially and by glimpses transient and far between, but 
who cherishes his pure idea in the innermost recesses of 
his mind, amidst his best sensibilities, studying all the 
beautiful details of his life with an ever-present convic- 
tion of reality, learning to conform all his ideas of great- 
ness to him as an unerring standard ! Must not a mind, 
thus occupied, be strong in the goodness which it loves ? 
And if strong in goodness, then saved, yes, saved — O, 
how truly saved ! being delivered from all corrupting 
passions, from all those false prepossessions, to which 
those who live in the world without a pure object to 
look at and to love, are ever so exposed, — being redeem- 
ed from all iniquity, and inspired with an affection for all 
that is holy in imagination, upright and benevolent in act. 
If a great and good man were now to appear, such as 
this age, and many preceding ages, had not produced nor 
approached, a great public benefactor, an example of 



IS SALVATION. 333 

every private virtue, and it were our privilege to be 
associated with him daily, intimately, by the respect and 
love he would inspire, would not every generous and vir- 
tuous sentiment be called into action? Would not our 
cheeks be crimsoned with shame at the bare thought of 
doing anything abhorrent to the nature of our revered 
friend 3 Could anything act upon us so powerfully as 
such a fellowship with living virtue 1 Of precisely this 
nature is the force of the character of Christ, and this is 
the way in which he who believes in Christ attains to 
that blessedness, which the Scriptures describe as the 
presence of God, Heaven, Salvation. To live in a Chris- 
tian land, among Christian institutions ; to profess the 
Christian faith in one or another form, — this is not faith 
in Christ, although thousands hug the delusion. It is to 
have the sacred image of his excellence set up at the very 
fountain-head of one's spiritual being, — this is faith, living, 
Christian, saving faith. He who cherishes it will, aye, 
he must be saved. The decree is writ in the very con- 
stitution of the soul. 

The world has suffered from nothing so much as from 
false ideas of greatness. The passion for military glory 
has been the fruitful cause of slavery, bloodshed, and 
crime. How little has the experience of its fatal results 
hitherto done to teach men wisdom ! How is this deadly 
charm ever to be broken, save by the formation of a 
nobler idea, the creation of a better taste, the erection of 
the true standard I In Jesus Christ, the real greatness of 
our nature — the glory of a pacific, all-enduring temper — is 



334 HE ANIMATES 

revealed. Let him then be lifted up before all eyes, and 
all hearts will be touched, and the sword and the spear 
and the banner bathed in blood will be buried at the foot 
of his cross, and it will be felt that all other courage is 
fear, all other glory shame, in comparison with that spirit 
which subdues by mercy and reigns by suffering. 

Once more. There is a wide and mournful need of 
confidence in the omnipotence of moral truth. This it is 
that the wise in all ages have most seriously wanted. They 
have had, as it has been said of a certain political party, 
" more of the wisdom of experience than the wisdom of 
hope," and they have " looked for their Future — only in 
the direction of the Past." Look at the wise and the 
educated and the thinking at the present day. How faint 
and sickly are their hopes of the moral improvement of 
our race ! Things are deemed impossible, for the instant 
accomplishment of which only that simple energy of will 
is required, which a sure faith in the vitality of moral 
truth would immediately create. In these circumstances 
how unspeakably precious, (could it only be brought home 
to the heart !) the memory of one in whom no trait is more 
conspicuous than a calm and unfaltering confidence in 
truth, and this too in a condition of things apparently the 
darkest and most hopeless ! Without a single decisive 
token of success, he uniformly looked upon the great re- 
volution he commenced, as already consummated. In no 
respect is his example more original and inspiring. In 
nothing does he stand so pre-eminently alone, far above 
all other teachers, as in his perfect faith in human nature. 



THE HOPES OF HUMANITY. 335 

He scattered fearlessly abroad the seeds of truth, and 
trusted in God that they would germinate and grow. 
Whereas all other teachers have divided their doctrines 
into esoteric and exoteric — philosophy for the initiated, 
and fables for the vulgar. And at the present day, how 
frequently is it said in regard to any new and more 
rational view of religion — ' It is all very true. I under- 
stand and believe it. But it will not do to disseminate 
such views. The generality of men cannot appreciate 
them.' I sny nothing of the modesty of this sentiment. 
It reveals the very worst kind of infidelity, and our sab- 
baths, our churches, and all our multitudinous institutions 
of Religion ure but a dead and delusive show, so long as 
man believes not in man. Jesus Christ went down di- 
rectly among the most ignorant and degraded, and well 
did he describe it as the most decisive attestation to his 
divine authority, that he delivered the glad messages of 
Truth " to the Poor." 

But I have done. To bring the man of Nazareth, the 
elder brother of our race, the chosen son of God, the 
Revealer of God and man, more within the reach of hu- 
man sympathies; to show that such, in the unspeakable 
grace of God, are the Records of his life, that the remotest 
generation may cherish, not merely a traditional, but a 
personal faith in him ; that in the very form and structure 
of the Gospels there are the means by which every man 
may be brought into personal intimacy with him, behold- 
ing him, as it were, face to face, is the ultimate aim of the 



336 CONCLUSION. 

present work ; and gives it whatever value it may be found 
to possess. How imperfect it is, how ail-inadequately I 
have touched upon the great subject, I feel deeply. Still 
it has been a delightful employment. If it fail to awaken 
interest in other minds, I do not say I shall not be disap- 
pointed. But I shall be ungrateful to the Giver of all 
good if I ever cease to acknowledge with fervent thank- 
fulness the confirmation it has afforded to my own faith. 



NOTES 



29 



NOTES 



NOTE TO CHAPTER VIII. 



That the miracle of " the walking on the water" (Mat- 
thew xiv. 25 — 32.) actually took place is not to be doubt- 
ed, because it is so closely and beautifully connected with 
an illustration of the character of Peter. It may seem 
however, at first sight, to militate against the views I 
have advanced in this chapter. But in fact it confirms 
them. As soon as they who were in the vessel recog- 
nised Jesus, Peter cried, " Lord ! if it be thou, bid me 
come unto thee on the water." And Jesus said " Come !" 
Now if his word broke the laws of Nature, could Peter 
have sunk, however great his terror 1 But as soon as he 
began to be afraid — as soon as his faith wavered — he be- 
gan to sink. " And immediately Jesus stretched forth his 
hand, and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little 
faith, wherefore didst thou doubt V thus intimating very 
clearly that it was by the power of faith — by force of 
mind — this miracle was to be wrought. The walking 
upon the water was not an infraction of the laws of na- 
ture, but a demonstration of the natural sovereignty of 
mind — that spiritual power upon which the mighty law 
of gravitation is in the nature of things dependent, and to 
which it must of course be subordinate. 



340 NOTES. 

NOTE TO CHAPTER X. 

I do not know whether any illustration I have adduced 
of the foreknowledge of Jesus be more striking than that 
presented in his answers to those who, on different oc- 
casions, demanded of him a sign. When he drove the 
money-changers from the Temple, and was immediately 
asked to produce the sign of his authority for doing what 
he had done, his reply is, " Destroy this temple, and in 
three days I will build it up." In this obscure allusion 
to his death and resurrection, how undesignedly is his 
foreknowledge of these events revealed ! Again, when at 
another time a sign was demanded, his answer is, " an 
evil and adulterous generation is seeking after a sign, but 
no sign shall be given it, but the sign of the prophet Jo- 
nah. For as Jonah was three days and three nights in 
the whale's belly, so shall the son of man be three days 
and three nights in the heart of the earth." Here again 
how unconsciously is his knowledge of his death and 
resurrection implied ! Had the narrators designed to as- 
cribe to him a foreknowledge which he did not possess, 
they never would have wrapt up the evidences of it in 
such obscure allusions. The reference to the prophet 
Jonah, by the way, is wonderfully pointed ; if, as we may 
with great probability suppose, those, who asked for a 
sign, desired to witness some dazzling exhibition of mi- 
raculous power. Tt is as if he had said, ' You are seeking 
a luminous and overpowering display of my authority. 
I tell you that the true sign of my authority will be given 
in events shortly to occur — (my death and resurrection,) 
which, so far from corresponding to your ideas of the Mes- 
siah's glory, can be likened to nothing among all the splen- 
did signs and wonders of your history, so appropriately 
as to the humiliation of the prophet Jonah.' 

THE END. 



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